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THE DUKE 




THE DUKE 



J. STORER CLOUSTON 
d 

AUTHOR OF 

‘‘THE LUNATIC AT LARGE” 


LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 


91 AND 93 Fifth Avenue, New York 


1900 

V-- 


• 703^5 


|l.it>rki f ol ConiM'««* 

( ‘M. '.cMU K«ia..«eo 

; NOV 3 1900 

C*jynght «n(ry 

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S£Cf'«D COPY. 

ta 

OROtK DIVISION, 

NOV 20 1900 


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Copyright, 1900, by 
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 


Al^ rights reserved 


TROW OIRCCTORV 

PRINTING AND BOOKBINOINO COA1PANY 
NeW >OliK ^KltM 




THE DUKE 

PART I 

CHAPTER I 

C RANCIS LE CLAIRE HASELLE, Duke of 
^ Grandon, and many things besides, had come 
to the limit of his reign. There was straw lying 
a foot deep for a quarter of a mile before Grandon 
House, and in the sick-chamber you could hardly 
hear a sound out of all the London noises. He 
was only forty-eight, and he lay with his eyes still 
bright and his wits about him, but his doom had 
been told and he knew there was just a grain or 
two of sand to run through the glass. Only one 
sat in the room beside his bed, a tall man with a 
long face and a square mouth and two little bits 
of side whisker. His features were clean cut, 
though by no means handsome; his eyes light 
grey, and his costume scrupulously correct in the 
mode of the sportsman about town. 

Pull up that blind a bit, Pursie,'’ said the Duke. 

I 


2 


THE DUKE 


The tall man rose and drew it up slightly. 

“That do?” he asked. 

The Duke nodded, and stretched out his hand 
towards a wine-glass. 

“ Have a drop more? ” said his friend. 

The Duke nodded again, and the tall man poured 
out some champagne. 

“ Doctor says it doesn’t matter now,” said the 
Duke, with a little grim smile. “ Might as well 
be cheerful.” 

He took a sip and put the glass down. 

“ Feel better? ” said the other. 

“ Able to talk,” replied the Duke. “ I want to 
speak to you, Pursie. I say, smoke away; I like it.” 

Sir Pursuivant Debrette took out a cigar. 

“ Sure you don’t mind? ” 

“ I’d tell you if I did.” 

Sir Pursuivant lit his cigar and leaned back in 
his chair. 

“ Yes? ” he said. 

“ It’s about my heir — leave him in your hands 
— you’ll see to him. What? ” 

Sir Pursuivant crossed his legs, drew his lips 
into a tight smile, and, after a moment’s pause, 
answered — 

“ I’ll do my best, Frank; but it’s the devil and 


THE DUKE 


3 


all managin’ a youngster who’s bin out on grass 
so long, when it comes to suddenly feedin’ him 
on oats.” 

“ Wild oats and strawberry leaves,” said the 
Duke. He had a turn for sardonic epigram, and 
chuckled faintly at this flicker of his wit. 

Sir Pursuivant laughed politely, like a man 
whose observation of what was expected supplied 
any deficiency of humour. 

“ He’ll probably kick a bit,” he remarked. 

“ At first,” said the Duke; “ but a dukedom’s 
devilish sobering.” 

He smiled faintly, and his friend emitted a more 
appreciative laugh. 

“ You know something about him,” the Duke 
went on. “ Seventh cousin twice removed, or 
something of that kind.” 

“ Fourth once removed,” said Sir Pursuivant, 
who was a byword for accuracy in these matters. 

“ Nearest male heir, anyhow. They’ve all died 
off, Pursie; he’s the only Haselle left. A brother, 
two cousins, and a nephew gone in the last ten 
years, and deuce an heir among ’em. No one left 
but this man.” 

“ Good blood,” said his friend; “ he’ll do all 


4 


THE DUKE 


The Duke closed his eyes and seemed to be 
thinking thoughts that a sick man had better 
forget. 

“ Good blood,” he repeated. Then he opened 
his eyes, and said, “ He’s a son of Walter Haselle.” 

“ Knew that.” 

“ You remember the business? ” 

“ Yes,” said Sir Pursuivant. 

He was looking inscrutably at his friend, and 
he kept looking at him through a brief silence. 
Suddenly he asked — 

“ He was guilty, I s’pose? ” 

The Duke made no answer, and as suddenly the 
Baronet added — 

“ Never mind; that’s all ancient history now. 
Let’s talk of the youngster. How’s he provided 
for? ” 

With a twitch of his face the Duke seemed to 
change the direction of his thoughts. 

“ I’ve left him enough to keep the thing going; 
pretty nearly everything, in fact. If he wants to 
play the fool, now’s his chance; see that he plays 
it like a gentleman, will you? ” 

“ I’ll do my best, Frank,” replied Sir Pursuivant, 
with the gravity befitting such a responsibility. 

“ I’ve had a good run for my money myself,” 


THE DUKE 


5 


said the Duke; “ but I’ve never forgotten who I 
was. I haven’t had a folly that’s cost me less than 
a £50 note, and I’ve left a wardrobe that would 
fit out half the men about town.” 

The Duke gave this summary of his virtues with 
his eyes closed and an immovable countenance. 
His friend looked at him a trifle uneasily; it was 
hard to say in what spirit he spoke, and Sir Pur- 
suivant disliked ambiguities. 

“ I’ll tell him what you said,” he hazarded. 

“ Do; give him a list of my virtues, Pursie — 
before you forget ’em yourself.” 

The Duke smiled slightly. 

“ Hang it, Frank,” said Sir Pursuivant jerkily; 
“ I’ll remember ’em all right. You’ve bin a devil- 
ish good friend — and all that. I’ll do what I can 
for the next Duke. I’m only afraid he won’t 
thank me for my trouble.” 

“ What do you expect? ” asked the Duke. 
“You are fifty, Pursie; do you still look for 
thanks? I leave you in charge of everything. 
He’ll have to come to you at first; set him going 
like a gentleman — if it’s possible.” 

“ What kind of a youngster is he? ” 

“ Don’t know, and it doesn’t matter much to 
me now; but hang it, Pursie, he’ll be Duke of 


6 


THE DUKE 


Grandon, seventh Duke, eighteenth Baron Ha- 
selle.” 

“ Nineteenth,” corrected Sir Pursuivant. 

“ I had forgotten— eighteenth is practically bur- 
ied. We’ve blood, Pursie; we’ve still power if 
we’ve the sense to use it. I’ve moved a few pawns 
myself. Tell Stock to look after the boy’s poli- 
tics; he’s a conceited, underbred ass, but he has 
brains of a kind. Don’t let the first girl catch 
him; give him something to play with meanwhile. 
Put him into a decent set till he knows his way — 
Jews and fools afterwards if he likes.” 

The Duke paused for breath, and stretched out 
his hand uncertainly towards the wine-glass. Sir 
Pursuivant quickly rose and slipped it within his 
grasp. 

There was a brief silence, and then the Baronet 
asked — 

“ How old is he? ” 

“ Twenty-something; you’ve got up his history, 
haven’t you? I haven’t — don’t know anything 
more about him. But he’ll be Duke of Grandon 
to-morrow, Pursie, and when he comes home you’ll 
probably see quite enough of him. He will cer- 
tainly be a cub, and probably a fool. You’ll lick 
him into shape. What? ” 


THE DUKE 


7 


“ I’ll try,” said Sir Pursuivant. 

Again the Duke closed his eyes and there was 
silence for a little. Sir Pursuivant smoked his 
cigar, and never a shade of expression crossed his 
face, while only the faintest of muffled sounds came 
now and again into the room. All at once the pa- 
tient moved slightly in his bed, and said in a voice 
that had not yet lost its caustic, imperious note — 

“ By the by, Pursie, there’s another matter — 
’bout those Gayes.” 

“ What about ’em? ” said the Baronet. 

“ Forgot ’em.” 

“ You mean there’s nothin’ in your will? ” 

“ Not a word.” 

Sir Pursuivant threw a glance at his friend that 
would have been a reproof if it had fallen upon a 
face less white and thin. 

“ Rather bad luck, isn’t it? ” he suggested. 

“ D n it, there’s no obligation ! ” exclaimed 

his Grace sharply. 

Sir Pursuivant returned no answer, and in a 
moment he went on — 

“ You might as well see to ’em all the same, 
just to keep ’em quiet. She may talk if you don’t, 
and I’d like to keep my memory as clean as — my 
life, for instance.” 


8 


THE DUKE 


The same pale ghost of a smile passed across 
the Duke’s face, but his friend showed no sign of 
amusement. 

“ What shall I do? ” he asked. 

“ Same arrangement would be best. Get a lit- 
tle money out of the new man.” 

“ H’m,” said the Baronet; “ will he see it? ” 

“ Try him — cautiously.” 

His Grace stopped, and then suddenly exclaimed, 
“ For God’s sake, don’t let her talk ! ” 

“ Do my best,” replied the Baronet quietly, 
without even looking at him as he spoke; but his 
friend knew what Pursie’s best meant when he had 
passed his word. 

“ The sun’s gone round now,” said the Duke 
after a minute or two. “ Pull the blind right up, 
Pursie.” 

He closed his eyes wearily, and Sir Pursuivant 
went to the window and drew up the blind. But 
it was down again next day, for Frank Haselle 
had gone to join the other five Dukes of Grandon 
and the seventeen Barons Haselle. 

In all the papers you might read his late Grace’s 
titles and claims to recognition and respect; you 
might learn that he had been well known upon the 
turf — his winnings five years ago were indeed 


THE DUKE 


9 


quite remarkable; that he was a steward of the 
Jockey Club, an ex-president of the M.C.C.; that 
he held high-sounding offices at Court and in the 
late Cabinet; that, in fact, he must have been a 
nobleman of some energy and capacity. As in- 
deed he was; a hard-living, shrewd, energetic, in- 
fluential person, with a very mixed reputation 
among those who knew. 

It further appeared that he had been a bachelor, 
and was survived only by two sisters. Lady Rou- 
lett, wife of the well-known peer of that name, 
and the Lady Georgiana Stock, spouse of the 
Right Honourable John Sanderson Stock, M.P. 

From the same source the world was informed 
that a number of distinguished families were placed 
in mourning by this untoward event; the cele- 
brated anecdote of the third Duke and the under- 
housemaid was repeated by the lighter journals, 
and the fourth Duke’s successful premiership men- 
tioned by the more serious. One or two of the 
least reticent recalled the late peer’s younger days, 
when for a year or two his name was a byword 
for recklessness and ill-luck, and ruin must have 
hovered within a hair’s breadth. The tide had 
turned, they said, none too soon, and since then 
it had always run with him. 


lO 


THE DUKE 


In most papers the immense acreage of his 
Scottish and English estates and the unencum- 
bered rent-roll accruing from these were given 
with the relish a writer feels in stringing rows of 
naughts. The ducal family were originally Scotch, 
and the barony of Haselle is an ancient dignity in 
that kingdom, but in the course of the centuries 
through which they had towered above the level 
of mankind they had accumulated titles and estates 
from both sides of the border in such profusion 
that one would think their possessor must feel 
embarrassed how to wear and enjoy them all. And 
yet it was said that his late Grace had successfully 
overcome any diffidence he might have been ex- 
pected to display. Naturally the world was some- 
what interested in hearing who should succeed to 
all these privileges and endowments, but that was 
precisely the point on which it was difficult to ob- 
tain information. Most of the obituary notices 
said nothing at all about an heir, and from the best 
sources the most inquiring and generally well- 
informed could only glean that one Lambert Ha- 
selle, of whom society had never before so much as 
heard, was now seventh Duke of Grandon. 


CHAPTER II 


1~\URING the forty-eight years of his life the late 
Duke was only known to have had one real 
intimate. He and Pursuivant Debrette had been 
at a preparatory school together; at Eton, at Ox- 
ford, in every act and in almost every scene of the 
polite comedy they played. Sir Pursuivant was 
indeed never a politician, but then the Duke was 
no idealist and maintained a fine aristocratic con- 
tempt for all save the power of the thing, so that 
such a diversity in their pursuits was of really less 
moment than an opposite preference in hatters. 
His Grace always held that Pursie had less non- 
sense about him than any man he ever knew; his 
friend, besides, was two years older than himself, 
which in their youth gave him a riper advantage 
he had never quite lost. Vv, ^ 

Sir Pursuivant certainly had as little nonsense 
as anything that should still be human. Instead, 
he was possessed of strong aristocratic prejudices, 
sensible and conservative views on the dozen or so 


II 


12 


THE DUKE 


subjects within his horizon, an exact knowledge of 
horses and genealogy, and a power of silently 
repelling whomsoever he chose. A perfectly au- 
thenticated pedigree took him straight back to 
Foulke de Debrette of Senlac battle, he held an 
Ulster baronetcy, and he was endowed with an in- 
come sufficient to comfortably defray such charges 
of living as were not met by his late friend. 

Like so many of his kind, he was an excellent 
and methodical man of business, and the Duke had 
confided the conduct of the interregnum entirely 
to his discretion. He discharged the servants at 
Grandon House, placed everything under lock and 
key, and once a day at least paid a surprise visit to 
the ancient caretaker. He secured the valuables, 
interviewed lawyers, wrote himself to Lambert 
Haselle; and all in a solemn, hard-mouthed way, 
just as you would have expected from a man with 
no nonsense in him. No one would have believed 
he felt lonely or so much as missed his friend and 
patron. 

All this time there were two ladies most anxious 
to have a word apart with Sir Pursuivant. Of late 
years the Duke had been on somewhat distant 
terms with his sisters; he had quarrelled with Lord 
Roulett over monetary transactions, for the Duke 


THE DUKE 


13 


was keen as a hawk whenever he did condescend 
to business, and his brother-in-law a veritable sieve 
for sovereigns; while some ducal slights received 
by the Right Honourable John Stock, M.P., had 
been keenly resented by the Lady Georgiana. But 
now that their brother was dead, the two spouses 
of these injured gentlemen became most importu- 
nate for an interview with the acting regent. 

‘‘ Suppose I must see ’em,’^ reflected Sir Pursui- 
vant. ‘‘ Hope they won’t pretend to feel sentimen- 
tal or blame me for the will or anythin’. I never 
liked ’em, no more did Frank. Still, I suppose it’s 
got to be done.” 

He began with the Lady Georgiana on the prin- 
ciple, as he put it, of getting the stiffest ditch over 
first. He found her in the deepest mourning, the 
only occupant of a drawing-room of immense size, 
decorated after the most conventional design. At 
the first glance it was evident that this lady was by 
no means lacking in character. On features de- 
cisive, confident, and closely resembling the hard 
countenance of her late brother, there was perpet- 
ually set a gracious smile which somehow seemed 
to belong to her in the same sense as her shoes and 
stockings. As befitted the wife of an eminent 
statesman and a member of so distinguished a 


14 


THE DUKE 


house, she possessed a beneficently patronising 
manner and clearly defined ideas on many serious 
topics. 

Sir Pursuivant had never been a ladies’ man. In 
their society his conversation lost its redeeming 
raciness of phrase, and both it and his manner took 
on a curiously stiff and modernised suggestion of 
the old-fashioned formal courtesy. In drawing- 
rooms he was generally considered dull, and what 
the late Duke saw in him had always been the won- 
der of his sisters; a lack of appreciation which Sir 
Pursuivant most cordially returned. Yet his de- 
votion to their house was strict and at present he 
felt a certain responsibility towards them. 

He greeted the Lady Georgiana with a low but 
slightly spasmodic bow, raised his hand high 
enough to receive her finger-tips, stood at stiff, 
attention till she was seated, and then placed 
himself bolt upright upon the uneasiest chair he 
saw. 

“ Ah,” she began graciously, “ I thought I was 
never going to see you. Sir Pursuivant.” 

“ Sorry,” he replied, “ had so little time. I’d 
have called sooner if I could.” 

“ Oh, I know. Sir Pursuivant, you’ve been 'most 
kind. My poor brother’s affairs couldn’t be in bet- 


THE DUKE 15 

ter hands! It’s so very good of you to find time 
to see me now.” 

The Lady Georgiana’s smile was more beneficent 
than ever, and her manner the most gracious in her 
repertoire. Sir Pursuivant was somewhat taken 
aback; she had never beamed on him like this be- 
fore, and he had come expecting an acid examina- 
tion. “ What the deuce is she up to? ” he won- 
dered. She almost shook a tremor of emotion out 
of her voice as she spoke of her late brother’s virtues 
and untimely end, and alluded feelingly to Sir Pur- 
suivant’s devotion. She referred glibly to political 
consequences so far-reaching that Sir Pursuivant 
thought to himself, “ By Gad, I didn’t think poor 
old Frank ’ud have made such a lot of difference. 
It’s like scratchin’ a favourite.” Unfortunately, 
after his custom in ladies’ society, he kept this 
simile to himself, and the only remark he made 
was a very dry, “ Yes, Frank’s a great loss.” 

“ The stick ! He doesn’t feel it a bit,” thought 
Lady Georgiana. 

At last she came to the point. Her visitor had 
insensibly relapsed from his ramrod demeanour; 
he had bent forward with his elbows on his knees, 
playing with his gloves, and looking abstractedly 
before him. For Sir Pursuivant this was an un- 


i6 


THE DUKE 


constrained drawing-room attitude, and might be- 
token 3. willingness to snswer (questions. 

“ And now tell me, Sir Pursuivant,” she asked 
in her most winning accents, “ who is this new 
Duke? ” 

“ Lambert Haselle, I b’lieve’s his name.” 

“Yes. But really, that tells one so little! I 
suppose I ought to know about him as he is a 
cousin, but then he has hitherto been rather— er— 
what is known as a poor relation. No one has so 
much as heard of him. Is he — is he quite the sort 
of person one would desire? ” 

“ Don’t know, really. Lady Georgiana. I sup- 
pose he’s a gentleman, and all that.” 

“ It is to be hoped,” said Lady Georgiana seri- 
ously, “ that he is at all events capable of becoming 
one.” 

“ Hope so,” agreed the Baronet. 

“The first essential he has already,” she con- 
tinued. “ He is well bom. But I am not one of 
those. Sir Pursuivant, who consider the accident of 
birth is by itself sufficient. Principles, aspirations, 
and refinement are the trinity of noblesse, are they 
not? ” 

As she uttered this epigram the excellent lady 
looked at Sir Pursuivant with an air that made the 


THE DUKE 


17 


Baronet as uncomfortable as he ever felt. She 
must mean something, he knew, but for the life of 
him he could not divine what it was. 

‘‘ Exactly,’’ he hazarded. 

‘‘ In his case these are probably only in the 
chrysalis stage so far. They must germinate, they 
must develop, in a suitable atmosphere.” 

H’m,” said Sir Pursuivant. 

Your responsibilities are great. Sir Pursuivant. 
It is to you that this young man will look for his 
example and his ideals.” 

‘‘ Hope he finds ’em,” thought the Baronet. 

The lady paused as if to permit her visitor to 
make a very natural suggestion. As, however, his 
attention seemed to be devoted to adjusting his 
sock, she was obliged to approach the matter deli- 
cately. '' For my own part, Sir Pursuivant,” she 
said, with a martyred air in most remarkable con- 
trast to the Haselle features and stereotyped smile, 
it will of course be my duty to show some interest 
in this young man.” 

Very good o’ you,” said the Baronet. 

‘‘ It is kind of you to say so,” replied Lady Geor- 
giana. “ But after all I am his nearest relative — 
his nearest available relative I mean. My sister. 
Lady Roulett, is so engrossed with the frivolities 


I8 


THE DUKE 


of society that I fear she can be of little assistance; 
in fact, I am not at all sure that her set would be 
the most desirable for him. The character and the 
principles of the young man are naturally, therefore, 
matters of the greatest anxiety to me.” 

Perceiving that Sir Pursuivant’s face showed the 
traces of an emotion which she rightly judged to be 
surprise, mixed with a little perplexity, she contin- 
ued in the same tone of firm resignation — 

“ I am a mother, Sir Pursuivant, and I should 
not like to think that my Julia or Maria would be 
thrown — as they unavoidably must be — into the 
society of a depraved or underbred person.” 

Quite so,” said the Baronet briefly. 

Lady Georgiana looked at him for a moment as 
if challenging some further comment, but as his 
long countenance and straight mouth remained 
as impassive as if they had been hewn from wood, 
she proceeded graciously — 

You can then count on my utmost endeavours 
to civilise your protege. Sir Pursuivant.” 

‘‘ Thanks,” said the Baronet. ‘‘ Much obliged, I 
assure you. Pll — er — let you know when he 
comes.” 

“ As soon as you know when he is expected. Sir 
Pursuivant, for it will hardly do to go straight out 


THE DUKE 


19 


of deep mourning. You see, I shall have to enter- 
tain again as soon as he comes home.” 

“ I expect him in about a month.” 

“ So soon as that ! ” 

Lady Georgiana reflected. 

“ Perhaps,” she said, “ it will be safer to modify 
our mourning at once.” 

As Sir Pursuivant made no comment, she smiled 
again, and broke out enthusiastically — 

“ Do you know, I am most anxious to see this 
new relative! He has been a squatter, has he 
not? ” 

“ Comes from Australia, I b’lieve.” 

“ That is the same thing, I presume,” said 
Lady Georgiana. “ You know nothing more about 
him? ” 

“ Practically nothin’,” said Sir Pursuivant. 

“ Has he any brothers or sisters? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Ah,” said the lady, in a tone of some relief it 
seemed. Then she asked, “ Who is he precisely? 
I am afraid we have rather lost sight of that branch 
of the Haselles.” 

Sir Pursuivant crossed his legs, nursed one knee, 
and replied in the precise manner of one who is 
master of his facts. 


20 


THE DUKE 


“ His grandfather was the Reverend Lambert 
Haselle, third cousin of your father, Lady Georgi- 
ana; held a livin’ in the north of England. Eldest 
son was a Walter Haselle.” 

Here Sir Pursuivant coughed drily. 

“ What? ” said the lady sharply. “ Not the Wal- 
ter Haselle who knew my brother once — about 
twenty or thirty years ago? ” 

“ The same.” 

“ That man?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Who had to ” 

“ Old story,” interrupted the Baronet. “ No 
good rakin’ it up. Anyhow, the present Duke is 
a son of his.” 

“ What became of that Walter Haselle? ” 

“ Went abroad. Married out there ” 

“ Out where? ” 

“ Africa or Australia, or somewhere,” said the 
Baronet, with a fine English contempt for the pal- 
try distinctions of strange continents. 

“ Who was she? ” 

“ His wife? Don’t know.” 

“ Ah,” said Lady Georgiana, with a world of 
meaning, for even those who appreciated Sir Pur- 
suivant least had to admit that the people he knew 
nothing about had better be ignored. 


THE DUKE 


21 


She was thoughtful for a moment, and then ab- 
ruptly she said — 

“ That reminds me of something. You remem- 
ber another man called Gaye, who was also not a 
very creditable acquaintance of poor Frank’s? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ There was nothing in my brother’s will about 
Mrs. Gaye.” 

“ Nothin’.” 

“ In a sense I was relieved. It proves that cer- 
tain suspicions regarding her relations with Gran- 
don were unfounded.” 

“ Never heard any suspicions myself,” said Sir 
Pursuivant sharply. “ No ground for ’em, any- 
how.” 

“ You may be sure. Sir Pursuivant, that 7 never 
credited them, or Miss Gaye would never have been 
employed as my governess.” 

“ Beg your pardon? D’ye mean to say she was 
your governess? ” exclaimed the Baronet. 

“ She is at present governess to my youngest 
daughter — little Caroline. I own I had qualms 
about taking her from such a family, but I am 
broad-minded, my dear Sir Pursuivant, and her 
mother made a really piteous appeal to me. Not 
that I ever knew Mrs. Gaye personally,” Lady 
Georgiana hastened to add. 


22 


THE DUKE 


Sir Pursuivant reflected for a minute. 

“ I shouldn’t let the Duke meet Miss Gaye if I 
were you,” he remarked. 

“ The Duke of Grandon meet my governess ! ” 
cried the lady. “ I think, Sir Pursuivant, that you 
may set your mind at ease on that point ! ” 

“ H’m, I s’pose it isn’t likely.” 

“ I certainly hope not,” said Lady Georgiana 
warmly. Then she asked with a curiosity that 
showed itself even through her graciousness, 
“ Have you any particular reason for suggesting 
this quite unnecessary precaution? ” 

“ Only this, that I rather fancy the less the Duke 
is reminded of that story we were speakin’ of the 
better.” 

Sir Pursuivant spoke as though there was some- 
thing behind his words, but his face had a look that 
warned his hostess to inquire no further. 

“ At present my governess is on holiday,” she 
said, with an accent on the name of the profession, 
“ and when she returns, her place as usual will be 
in the schoolroom. She is quite aware that her 
situation is due to my charity, nor should I ever 
hesitate to remind her of that fact if it became nec- 
essary.” 

“ Gad ! ” said Sir Pursuivant to himself. “ I 


THE DUKE 


23 

wouldn’t change places with that girl for some- 
thin’.” 

As he reflected thus, he arose and said aloud — 

“ Must be goin’ now, I’m afraid.” 

“ Won’t you stay for tea? ” 

“ Very sorry, Lady Georgiana, must be goin’ 
on.” 

“ You haven’t seen my sister? ” 

“ Not yet.” 

Again Lady Georgiana looked, one would say, 
relieved. 

“ Ah,” she said, with a smile as far over her face 
as it could spread, “ I’m afraid Lady Roulett’s 
drawing-room doesn’t attract you. Sir Pursuivant. 
I wonder at that.” Yet she contrived to put no 
astonishment into her voice. 

“ Just goin’ to see her now. Goodbye.” 

The smile vanished; for a moment it seemed as 
though she were going to add something, but Sir 
Pursuivant was already bending himself towards 
her hand in the manner of the funnel of a penny 
steamer going under a bridge, so she only bade him 
a most gracious farewell. 


CHAPTER III 


OIR PURSUIVANT walked slowly towards the 
^ mansion of Lord Roulett, chewing the cud of 
his late interview. What he saw, he saw generally 
in a clear, concise, limited way, much as upon a 
dark night one sees by the carriage lamps enough 
road for practical purposes and the two boundary 
ditches. 

Devilish little difference it’ll make to her what 
he’s like,” he thought, so long as he’s a Duke and 
isn’t married already.” 

At this last reflection he stopped short in the 
middle of the pavement, and the perspiration broke 
out on his forehead. 

‘‘ Gad ! ” he exclaimed. ‘‘ Supposin’ there’s a 
backwoods’ Duchess ! ” 

He was so upset by this terrible possibility, that 
he walked fifty yards past the house before he no- 
ticed where he was, and when he was ushered into 
the drawing-room his hard mask of a face almost 
expressed the abstraction he felt. 

24 


THE DUKE 


25 


This apartment was of more moderate dimen- 
sions than Lady Georgiana’s, and was decorated 
after no apparent design at all, unless it might be 
that of withdrawing attention from the antiquity of 
the wall-paper and carpet by a lavish display of less 
expensive trappings. Lord Roulett, in fact, had 
little money to lay out upon anything, and what he 
had was generally put on horses. 

Presently Lady Roulett entered, and in her the 
observant could perceive another print from the 
Haselle plate; but this time with the first distinct- 
ness somewhat blurred. Her eye was lively and 
her features expressed all manner of trivial emo- 
tions upon any cause or none; yet in repose the stiflf 
character was etched about her mouth. Talking 
of that family affection of which glimpses have al- 
ready appeared, a satirical observer had remarked 
that the three had but one heart between them — 
divided into thirds; and to keep them the better it 
almost seemed as if they had each dried their share. 
Her greeting, however, was warmth itself. 

‘‘ My dear Sir Pursuivant, how good of you ! 
she cried. You’ll have some tea, of course? You 
must; I insist! How kind of you to come! You 
must be so busy! Poor Frank, wasn’t it sad? 
Such a successful general though — thanks to 


26 


THE DUKE 


you, Sir Pursuivant! You’re looking quite wor- 
ried with all your responsibilities, I declare ! How 
very trying it must be ! ” (Sir Pursuivant was 
looking precisely the same hard-featured, well- 
dressed man of the world he had appeared any day 
these last twenty years.) “ And now do tell me,” 
she went on, arranging herself irresistibly among 
a pile of cushions, “ who is this new Duke? ” 

“ Gad ! she goes as straight to the point as Frank 
himself,” thought Sir Pursuivant. ‘‘ No foolin’ in 
the paddock.” 

Aloud he replied— 

Grandson of Lambert Haselle, who held a liv- 


“ Oh, yes,” she interrupted, with a once fascinat- 
ing little giggle denoting now a charming womanly 
contempt for facts. ‘‘ Yes, I suppose he’s traced 
back all right, and is a tenth cousin, or whatever 
it is.” 

‘‘ Fourth, once removed.” 

‘‘ Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter so long as he 
is Duke and we’re all poor relations now ! He, he, 
he! I’m so anxious to see him. Bring in tea, 
Parker ” (this to a severe-looking individual who 
had just entered). ‘‘ We’ve heard such extraordi- 
nary stories about him! Do tell me, are they all 
true?” 


THE DUKE 


27 

“ I don’t know exactly what they are, Lady 
Roulett.” 

“ Well, I mean, was he really discovered selling 
papers in San Francisco? And is it true that they 
had to put him in a hot bath to find out if it really 
was him? ” 

“ Nobody’s bin out to see him,” said Sir Pursui- 
vant, somewhat taken aback at this piece of intelli- 
gence. “ Might have sold papers for all I know, 
haven’t heard anythin’ about it, though.” 

“ Another story says,” Lady Roulett went on, 
her voice sinking and becoming very grave, “ that 
he has been in London all the time — in the north 
of London” (this with a most expressive look) — 
“ and that the story of his being abroad is only got 
up to account for the delay.” 

“ What delay? ” 

“ In his appearance in society.” 

“ But — er — how does it account for it? ” asked 
Sir Pursuivant, much perplexed. 

“ His time isn’t up yet,” she replied in a stage- 
whisper. 

“ What time? ’Fraid I don’t quite follow.” 

“ Holloway ! ” whispered Lady Roulett, with the 
most impressive dramatic effect. 

“ Eh? ” said Sir Pursuivant, thinking blankly of 
the pills vended under that title. 


28 


THE DUKE 


“ Holloway jail! ” 

“ What ! ” cried Sir Pursuivant, nearly starting 
out of his chair. “ Gad ! Hang it, Lady Roulett, 
that’s too much! Duke of Grandon in Holloway 
jail — never heard of such a ridiculous idea; it’s — 
er — it’s ” 

Here the Baronet’s language quite failed him at 
the notion of a duke in any jail short of the Tower. 

“ Remember, Sir Pursuivant, I only repeat what 
Fve heard, but that’s one story. Other people 
say ” 

But at this moment the tea came in, and until 
the severe-looking man left the room. Sir Pursui- 
vant had a minute or two to recover. It was only a 
brief respite, however. 

“ Other people say,” Lady Roulett continued, 
“ that it really happened abroad, and that he’s only 
waiting to let his hair grow — which of course he’d 
have to do in any case.” 

“ Gad I ” exclaimed Sir Pursuivant, staring at her 
as a bishop ought to at a blasphemous person. 

“ Isn’t it romantic? Most dukes are so common- 
place! This is your cup. Sir Pursuivant. You 
don’t take sugar or cream? No, that’s the hot 
water ! Oh ! and that’s not the sugar, it’s the but- 
tered toast! How very distrait you are. Sir Pur- 
suivant ! ” 


THE DUKE 


29 


“ Eh? Er, yes,” muttered the Baronet abstract- 
edly, taking his cup and sitting slowly down again. 

“ Roulett declares,” his hostess rattled on, “ that 
people are mixing up him and his father, and that 
they’re thinking of the old scandal — you know 
what I mean, I muddle things up so — a woman al- 
ways does, doesn’t she? And really perhaps there’s 
nothing in all these stories. What do you think? ” 

“ Can’t really say.” 

“ Well, at least you can tell me what colour he is. 
I’ve heard so many different accounts.” 

“ What colour? ” gasped Sir Pursuivant, with a 
horrid vision of a striped or spotted peer. “ Really, 
madam, you know as much about him as I do.” 

“ Oh, well,” cried Lady Roulett, with her most 
bewitching shrug, “ if you won’t tell, you won’t, I 
suppose. And anyhow we sha’n’t have long to 
wait now. When is he expected? ” 

“ About a month, I b’lieve.” 

Lady Roulett looked for a minute as if she was 
calculating which contingency could best account 
for this space, and then with a candid and artless 
air she broke forth — 

“ You must promise to let me know as soon as 
ever he arrives. Won’t you. Sir Pursuivant? Even 
if all they say is true. I’m his fifth cousin — or sixth. 


30 


THE DUKE 


did you say? — and I must really show him some 
attention. You see there’s really no one else; my 
sister is such a severe person ! and so taken up with 
her husband’s politics and things, she won’t be 
able to do anything for him.” 

Here Lady Roulett stopped to look serious and 
sigh, as if struck with a new reflection. 

“ I’ll let you know,” interjected the Baronet. 

“ Thank you so much. Only I do hope he turns 
out to be a respectable young man. You see, with 
a daughter just out, one must be so particular, 
mustn’t one? ” 

“ Yes — most,” assented Sir Pursuivant drily, ris- 
ing as he spoke. 

“You must really go. Sir Pursuivant? Just as 
I thought you were actually going to gossip ! How 
provoking of you! Now remember you tell me as 
soon as this dear new Duke arrives; I’ll promise to 
be a second mother to him ! By the way, I suppose 
you’ve seen nothing of my sister lately? ” 

“ Just bin callin’ there. Lady Roulett,” said Sir 
Pursuivant, bowing his adieu. 

“ Indeed! ” cried Lady Roulett, without any em- 
bellishment of smile or shrug. “ No doubt she is 
immensely interested too? ” she added, with the 
smile coming back. 


THE DUKE 


31 


“ Ah — er — seemed so. Goodbye.” 

Sir Pursuivant abruptly went through his formal 
salute and left Lady Roulett reflecting. 

“ Devilish kind of ’em both,” he said to himself 
sardonically as he drove back to his club. “ His 
Grace won’t go wrong for want of motherin’, it 
seems.” 


CHAPTER IV 



HE blinded eyes of Grandon House looked out, 


^ day after day, upon a quiet cul-de-sac of a 
street and a strip of green and rustling garden, see- 
ing (if they could see at all thus hooded) nothing 
but a few carriages and policemen and the most 
orthodox and respectable of passers-by. It had 
come to be nearly the middle of May by this time, 
and in the windows of all the other great mansions 
of this street there were lights at night and glimpses 
of life by day. Grandon House alone stood silent 
and forlorn, the solemn hatchment hung above a 
columned porch, shutters and sombre blinds where 
the people privileged to dwell in this great palace 
should have been looking forth upon the world be- 
neath them. Of all the houses in the row it was the 
greatest and the most imposing; there must have 
been acres of these mufifled walls and rooms enough 
inside to house a battalion. Perhaps the six dead 
dukes paced the corridors and filled its void saloons 
while there was not yet one to dispute their rights. 


THE DUKE 


33 


Perhaps they asked impalpable guests to unsubstan- 
tial banquets, and there were orgies and scandals of 
which the old caretaker heard not so much as a sigh 
of wind. But she was rather deaf and very short of 
sight, and the only folk she saw were Sir Pursuivant 
on his regular visits and the vigilant police who were 
always peering about the bars of windows and the 
fastenings of shutters. 

It had seen upon its stairs and within its rooms as 
many great and brilliant people as the house of any 
subject. One after another the first five dukes had 
maintained a tradition of princely hospitality, and 
all the names best known in the annals and the scan- 
dals of the time had in their day been gathered there. 
The sixth duke had entertained lavishly but spas- 
modically. For long intervals the mansion would 
stand empty, and then there would be a coming of 
carriages and blaze of music worthy of its proudest 
days. 

The very furniture of such a house must become 
imbued with something of a ducal pride, and, I make 
no doubt, the sofas and the pictures and the chairs 
were wondering in their horse-hair and canvas 
hearts who would claim them and what would hap- 
pen next. There were divans where marquises had 
sat, beds that had enfolded royal personages, tables 


34 


THE DUKE 


that Still cherished the far-off pressure of long-de- 
scended elbows, painted persons that were them- 
selves ducal, and had looked from their unshut eyes 
on all these others; there was even a certain high- 
backed, deep-seated arm-chair, standing beneath a 
white coverlet of lawn in the great drawing-room, 
that boasted it did not so much as know a single 
commoner by weight. 

The memories that haunted Grandon House were 
all of the town, of the quintessence, the marrow, the 
spirit of London — the London of the Great. It was 
not the house where people were born, seldom 
where they died ; no one would come to such a place 
to live if he could help it, and certainly not to rest. 
An aroma of dice and ruffles, of candles and stringed 
instruments, clung to each chamber. The solem- 
nity of its vast apartments was like the decorous de- 
meanour of ancient courtiers — you felt there was 
nothing truly grave or serious here, because so few 
events that were deeply human had ever happened 
in them. These Dukes of Grandon had been a hard 
race, sometimes shining with the brilliancy of cut- 
glass reflectors, always content to decorate their 
halls with the traditional gilding. It was impossible 
to imagine one of them regarding this palace as a 
home, and if a duke’s imagination could not com- 


THE DUKE 


35 


pass this, certainly no humbler man could think of 
it as anything but a huge and brilliant stage. Now, 
with the actors all away and the footlights turned 
out, dust on the scenery and covers upon the furni- 
ture, there seemed nothing in the whole vast height 
and depth of all its rooms to connect them with tears 
or laughter, or anything that real men and women 
do. In a fortnight the new Duke was expected. 
Would he come like the others, with a fanfare of 
trumpets, and fill the great saloons with guests? 
Or had the glory of Grandon House departed with 
the lamented Francis, sixth sovereign? The stage 
furniture doubtless wondered. 

The moon rose one clear May night and looked 
down on the lines of dead windows and the solemn, 
black-bordered hatchment. It was a little chilly, 
but summer was in the air and London felt alive. 
A great house further down the quiet street was all 
lit up, and carriages rolled to the door and police- 
men waved them ofif again. A few loafers had gath- 
ered to see the people enter, and now and then 
guests came on foot from the clubs and chambers 
of St. James’s. Elsewhere the street was quiet and 
exclusive as ever, and the other houses towered up 
silently in the moonlight. 

At last there came a man strolling slowly with his 


36 


THE DUKE 


hands in the pockets of a long, light top-coat. He 
looked too respectable to be a curious loafer, and 
he was evidently not a guest, nor even, apparently, 
a man of any fashion, for at this hour of this season, 
when everybody of course should be dressed, he 
wore not only tweeds, but a peaked cloth cap. He 
kept under the railings of the strip of garden, look- 
ing across at each high house in turn, rather, one 
would say, like a sight-seeing stranger, had there 
been any particular sight to see. When he had 
come abreast of Grandon House he stopped; he 
looked, up at the hatchment and the ranks of win- 
dows without a light in one of them, and the sight 
seemed so absorbing that at length he leaned his 
back against the railings and stared and stared as 
though this were indeed a spectacle. A vigilant 
policeman noticed him, and paced twice or thrice 
close past, eyeing his face with official observation, 
but the man p^id no attention to him at all; in fact, 
he hardly seemed to be aware of his presence. At 
length, as though h^ were moved by a sudden im- 
pulse, or had settled a debate, he abruptly walked 
across the road and went up the steps. For a min- 
ute he stood with his hand on the bell, looking up 
at the door and the porch as if the silent pomp of 
these were something daunting, and then he rang 


THE DUKE 


37 


Nothing happened for a little, except that the po- 
liceman drew nearer, and he rang again, and yet a 
third time. 

At last an uncertain step shuffled on the further 
side of the ponderous front door, there was a sound 
of bolts and chains, and then it swung a little way 
open, and the face of the ancient caretaker peered 
cautiously out. 

“ What do you want now? ” she demanded be- 
fore the stranger had time to speak. 

“ This is the Duke of Grandon’s house? ” he 
asked. 

The old woman puckered her face and looked at 
him in the manner of very short-sighted people. 

“ There’s no one living here,” she answered, with 
an air of ending the interview. 

“ It is Grandon House? ” the stranger persisted. 

“ Yes.” 

He stepped past her into the half-lit vestibule, and 
then stopped and said quietly — 

“ I wish to come in. I am the Duke of Grandon.” 

Somehow or other it never entered the caretaker’s 
head to question this assertion. The stranger pro- 
duced no card, gave no evidence of his identity ; she 
was so near-sighted and the gas was turned so low 
that she could only see that he was young and rather 


38 


THE DUKE 


tall, and yet there was something in his voice and 
air as he announced his title that made his words 
sound true. She ducked with a motion that might 
once have been a curtesy, and began to stammer be- 
tween pleasure and confusion — 

‘‘ Beg your pardon, your Grace — I imagined 
you’d a bin the p’leeceman — beggin’ your pardon, 
your Grace — they comes and bothers me sometimes 
— my heyesight not bein’ as good as it used. Will 
your Grace come hupstairs? ” 

“ I merely thought I’d look in just to see the 
house,” said his Grace. “ I’m not expected yet. 
Yes, I might as well come upstairs.” He spoke in 
a pleasant voice, tinged slightly now and then with 
a suggestion of the sharp accent of the colonies, but 
unmistakably well-bred, and with something care- 
less, rather off-hand, about it. 

He led the way into a wide hall. It was lit only 
by a single jet of gas that filled the space with shad- 
ows and only showed dimly a succession of fluted 
columns and the foot of a broad staircase. The car- 
pets were up and he could see that the stairs and 
the floor of the hall were of white marble. 

It’s rather dark,” said his Grace, pausing to take 
a box of matches from his pocket. ‘‘ Up this way, 
I suppose? ” 


THE DUKE 


39 


He turned to the stairs as he spoke, and, without 
waiting for an answer, struck a match and held it 
up. And thus the seventh Duke of Grandon 
mounted the great staircase of his house, lighting 
the gas as he went along with his own ducal hands. 

They came. to a gallery that overlooked the hall, 
and now there was light enough to see a great ex- 
panse of ceiling above them, heavy with plaster 
work and gilding; and, down below, the marble 
columns and floor and the noble dimensions of the 
hall. Out of the gallery a wide corridor opened, 
and the Duke asked — 

“ Where does this lead to? ” 

“ The drawing-rooms and reception-rooms, your 
Grace.” 

He went down a little way, opened a door at ran- 
dom, and found himself in a long and stately room, 
and from this he entered another, and thence went 
through into a third, lighting a gas jet here and 
there as he passed. This third was evidently the 
great drawing-room. With no carpets or rugs on 
the floor, and the furniture pushed against the wall, 
it seemed to the young Duke the most colossal 
apartment he had ever been in. The style of dec- 
oration appeared everywhere the same throughout 
the rooms he had visited, but here the gilding and 


40 


THE DUKE 


the mirrors and the columns and the white paint and 
the panels of gorgeous tapestry were laid on with 
a more lavish hand than ever. These embellish- 
ments looked to him like a conclave of millionaire 
princes sitting in silent judgment on any rash in- 
truder. 

He turned to the old woman and said — 

All right. You needn’t wait. I’ll let you 
know when I go out.” 

And so the new Duke was left alone in the great 
drawing-room to the criticism of the aristocratic up- 
holstery. 


CHAPTER V 


' I ■'HE Duke slowly paced from end to end of his 
* gorgeous, desolate cavern, while the pictures 
on the wall and the sofas and the chairs silently 
studied their latest owner. He had taken off his 
cap and coat, and they could see a young man made, 
to all seeming, of ordinary flesh and blood, above 
middle height, erect, and of a light and wiry build. 
His face, they could further observe, was rather 
thin, with good clean-cut features that seemed as if 
they had been cast originally in a harsh mould and 
then refined about the edges. In his mouth some- 
thing of the hard, Haselle obstinacy might clearly 
be traced, but much more than that was certainly 
written there. His eyes were humorous and keen, 
looking straight and carelessly upon the world. 

This face was clean-shaven, and showed the play 
of some emotion as he paced there, of more than 
they had seen in any of the former six. Chiefly it 
betrayed now half-humorous reflection, and every 
now and then they hailed a glance that suddenly re- 


41 


42 


THE DUKE 


called the casual cynicism of their last lord. Again 
for a moment the eyes would become quite grave, 
and then they felt that new blood had come into the 
family. For his part he paid these critics little 
enough attention at first. Up and down he walked 
a dozen times or more; occasionally glancing at this 
or that; for the most part looking right before him. 
But very soon his eye was caught by a portrait upon 
the wall. It hung in shadow; he turned his steps 
to examine it more closely, and there he stood con- 
fronting it for a while. 

On a gilt label he read that this was the present- 
ment of the late Francis, sixth Duke of Grandon. 
He was magnificently apparelled and radiant with 
orders, and if the brush had told the truth he must 
have been well aware of the fine figure he cut. Yet 
it was the haughty consciousness of a god; the vul- 
gar might admire him if they chose, they and their 
admiration were nothing to him. The painted eyes 
looked coldly into the living Duke’s; the lips were 
curled with something that was between an Olym- 
pian smile and an Olympian sneer: he was indeed 
on a pedestal immeasurably above mankind. 

The two looked at one another till the face of the 
new-comer began to assume the same expression as 
his lofty predecessor’s bore. He seemed to be chal- 


THE DUKE 


43 


lenging him to a contest of disdain. Then suddenly 
he laughed, swept as by an effort the hardness from 
his face, and resumed his meditative pacing. 

All down the other side of the room there was a 
series of great windows hung with heavy curtains. 
The Duke at last stopped in his walk, drew aside one 
pair, swung back the shutters, and looked out. This 
window ran down to the floor and opened upon a 
wide balcony. He threw it open and stepped out. 

It was a perfect, early summer night and on this 
side of the house the moon looked down upon a 
fairyland of its own and fancy’s making. Below the 
balcony there lay really just a London park with 
London trees and cabs and lamps and people in it, 
and the roofs and pinnacles of high London build- 
ings away beyond, but to-night there was an en- 
chantment on it all, such as frost lays upon a win- 
dow-pane. Young leaves rustled almost within an 
arm’s length, faint stars shining through the top- 
most boughs, swift jingling lights glancing down 
among the stems. There were moonlit glades and 
a glimpse of shining water, serpentines of little lamps 
all through the trees, glistening roofs and peaks far 
off, and the merry hum of London in the air. 

The young Duke leaned upon the balustrade, and 
as he looked down thus from the heights of Grandon 


44 


THE DUKE 


House upon a world that seemed to welcome him, 
his eyes began to brighten as if the current of his 
thoughts were running faster and through a fairer 
country. He saw people passing in the roadway 
and heard the sound of their voices and their wheels 
rising from all the miles of city, and he knew that 
out of their millions there were scarcely a dozen who 
gazed from such a height. The old Haselle smile 
played for an instant about his lips ; and then his eyes 
grew grave and the faint resemblance vanished. 

“ Pooh! he muttered suddenly, and then began 
to smile again, but this time youthfully and humor- 
ously. It was certainly a ridiculous freak of fortune 
to pitchfork him up into that balcony whence the 
world he had come from became simply the crowns 
of so many hats. There were wise and respectable 
heads beneath some of them, no doubt, but what 
was a Duke supposed to know of these? 

It’s goodbye at least to all the shabby hats,” he 
said to himself, and hardly knew whether to sigh or 
laugh at the thought. 

By this time they had begun to dance in the great 
house down the street, and through the open win- 
dows he caught the strains of the band. 

‘‘ I know that air! ” he thought, with the pleasant 
start of one who hails a tune. He began to hum it 


THE DUKE 


45 


with the band, and then in a minute broke out into 
the words of the spirited chorus — 

'E calls ’is mother his ma ! 

Ever since ’e came into a little bit of splosh, 

Why ’e dunno where ’e are ! ” 

“ I wonder whether he will,” he reflected half- 
gravely. Then the band stopped playing and the 
Duke looked rather wistfully over the park. 

“ Goodbye to the shabby hats,” he repeated, 
“ and to all the good chaps inside ’em.” 

“Your Grace!” said a voice somewhere behind 
him. He looked round sharply with a sudden thrill 
at the title. The voice came from within the room. 

“Yes?” he answered, coming back to the win- 
dow. The old woman was standing just inside, evi- 
dently rather scared by his Grace’s complete dis- 
appearance. 

“Yes? ” he repeated. 

“ Please your Grace, there’s a gentleman awant- 
ing you.” 

“ Wanting mef ” 

“ Yes sir — beg parding, your Grace.” 

“ Who is it? ” 

“ He didn’t give ’is name; he just asked for the 
Dook of Grandon.” 


46 


THE DUKE 


“ He asked for the Duke? ” said his Grace, with 
rising curiosity. “ But who knows I’m here? No- 
body even knows I’m in London.” 

He was still standing on the balcony in the shad- 
ow of the curtain, and the old caretaker, being un- 
able to gather his Grace’s pleasure from the sound 
of his voice, peered uncertainly up at the shadow. 

“ You are sure he meant mef ” 

“ He said the Dook, your Grace.” 

“ And what did you tell him? ” 

“ I said as you was inside, and I’d hask your 
Grace.” 

“ Show him up,” said the Duke. 

“ Now what’s the meaning of this? ” he won- 
dered, as she went. “ Does a duke make his pres- 
ence felt in the air? ” 

In the silence that prevailed through Grandon 
House, he heard a step coming along the corridor; 
it passed first through one reception-room, through 
the second, and then the door opened and a man 
came jauntily towards him. 

“ Welcome, your Grace! ” he cried. 

“ Jack Kavanagh! ” exclaimed the Duke. 

“ The very same! ” said his visitor heartily, grasp- 
ing and wringing the ducal hand. “ And I knew 
fine ye wouldn’t have forgotten me. Faith, says I, 


THE DUKE 


47 


Lambert will take it ill, if he hears Lm in town and 
wasn’t the first to offer him me hearty congratula- 
tions! ” 

The gentleman who expressed this sentiment was 
evidently, from his voice no less than his name, of 
Hibernian extraction. He was a well-built, tallish 
young man, with a genial countenance marked by 
an expression of the most consummate confidence 
and adorned with a waxed moustache of an auburn 
hue. His whole gait, air, voice, and eye were redo- 
lent of a hail-fellow-well-metness that would have 
easily become sheer impudence in one belonging to 
a less seductive nationality. As it was he had a 
pleasant something that carried off what in another 
you would have called a rather vulgar rakishness. 
His clothes had evidently been fashionable some 
years ago, but were now a trifle the worse for wear. 
An adventurous gentleman rather under the wind 
you would say, and the Duke could have confirmed 
this estimate of his old acquaintance. Beneath his 
air of easy cordiality there lurked just a faint doubt 
of the reception he might get, and his eyes furtively 
watched the other’s countenance. 

As for the Duke, he was lost for the moment be- 
tween surprise and memory. Here was a piece of 
that past that a few minutes ago he had thought 


48 


THE DUKE 


was gone for ever, standing before him in the draw- 
ing-room of Grandon House. It was as though the 
globe had suddenly slipped round under his feet and 
he was again beneath the Southern Cross, a penni- 
less, kinless adventurer, with the world an unopened 
oyster. 

D’ye remember when ye saw me last? ” said the 
visitor. 

‘‘ River in flood, claim a fraud, you starting off 
with the other boys and I on my own? How long 
ago was that? ” said the Duke. 

It must be a year be now, Lambert.” 

Only a year? ” 

The Duke looked at his visitor and then round 
upon the great drawing-room. 

It seems like ten,” he added. 

YeVe maybS forgotten things, then? ” 

‘‘ Not had time yet. Jack,” said his Grace, with a 
smile. 

Not the flood, and how ye fell in and were so 
stunned ye couldn’t swim ” 

And you pulled me out? ” said the Duke quick- 
ly. Perhaps I may do a turn for you now.” 

'' No more of that! ” cried his visitor, with an air 
implying that this prospect was both novel and de- 
pressing, though at the same time his confidence 


THE DUKE 


49 


sensibly increased. “ Tell me, Lambert, all about 
this wonderful thing that’s happened to ye. ’Tis 
not every day me friends become jooks.” 

“ Simple enough really. The last man died and 
they had to fall back on me for want of a better.” 

The Duke dropped carelessly into a chair as he 
spoke and thrust his hands into his pockets. His 
visitor’s eye had still been watching him cautiously, 
but at this casual movement he knew of old it cleared 
and twinkled. 

“ Faith,” he said, seating himself too, “ I see ye’ve 
not changed much yet.” 

His Grace laughed. 

“ A ducal manner isn’t acquired in an evening.” 

“ Ye mean ye’ve only just arrived? ” 

“ This is my first night ashore. I didn’t think a 
soul knew I’d landed. How in the world did you 
find me out? ” 

“ Well, Lambert,” said his visitor, “ to tell ye the 
honest truth I was not dead sure in me mind that 
I’d find ye at home after all. I’ve just returned 
meself, and it was this very day that I happened to 
read in an evening paper of your extraordinary 
good-fortune, me boy; so I just came round on the 
chance, d’ye see? Be George, and I’m in luck’s 
way too, finding ye alone, with no fine company at 


50 


THE DUKE 


all! Just landed, ye say? And of course that ac- 
counts for it! ’’ 

He looked round the room critically as he said 
this, and the Duke laughed aloud. 

That accounts for it. Jack,’’ he said, still laugh- 
ing. ‘‘ I’d have had a couple of men in white calves 
to receive you if you’d given me time.” 

“It’s not that, me boy! Faith, it’s not that, I 
assure ye! ” cried his guest hastily. “ It’s yourself, 
the old Lambert, the best of good company, sir, I 
was wanting, and be hanged to white calves ! ” 

“ Still,” said his Grace, “ I confess Grandon 
House at this moment is as like the inside of a hearse 
as anything I’ve struck for some time.” 

He said this with a little touch of twang and a 
comical look round on his desolate drawing-room. 

“ ’Tis a higher roof, though, than the last that 
was over us two, Lambert. D’ye remember the 
tent by the Wallaroo, and the hole in it the rain used 
to come in, and the old biscuit tin ye used to sit on 
and play your Jew’s harp, and me singing to me 
concertina; d’ye remember all that now ye’re a jook, 
Lambert? 

His Grace sprang to his feet and strode across the 
room. 

“ The deuce take you. Jack, for coming to remind 


THE DUKE 


SI 

me! ’’ he cried. ‘‘ Isn’t it enough that I should be 
a damned duke in a damned dungeon in this damned 
city, with that damned canvas thing for company? ” 
(he pointed at Francis, sixth Duke of Grandon). 

Fm home-sick and heart-sick and Grandon-sick 
enough! Why do you remind me that there used 
to be a thing called fresh air and a man named Lam- 
bert Haselle? ” 

His friend stared at this outburst of sentiment and 
profanity as though he could scarce believe his 
ears. 

What the divil’s up? ” he exclaimed. 

I was just beginning to deceive myself into 
thinking I was in luck,” pursued the Duke, '' and 
now you come with your old stories! ” 

‘‘ But what’s the matter? ” asked his visitor. 

The Duke stopped his impetuous walk and broke 
into a smile, but it was a smile that went ill with so 
young and frank a face. 

‘‘ So you know what sort of a world I’ve been 
shied into? ” he asked. 

‘‘ A fine enough world for you, Lambert.” 

It’s a world which kicked my father into the 
gutter, kicked me into the gutter when I showed 
my face in it once before, and now is going to lick 
my boots and tell me that since I’m Duke of Gran- 


THE DUKE 


52 

don it is ready to forget that I was once the son of 
Walter Haselle. A fine world, Jack! ’’ 

I don’t quite follow ye,” said Jack. 

The Duke paced to the end of the room and back; 
then he stopped again and said in his ordinary 
voice — 

If you like, I’ll tell you what I mean. Twenty- 
six years ago the worst blackguard for his age in 
England lived in this house. He also was called the 
Duke of Grandon. It pleased him to honour with 
his notice a distant relative, my father, Walter 
Haselle. The ins and outs of what happened don’t 
matter, but I’ll tell you this, that his Grace at last 
wanted to be rid of his relative, and he managed it 
in a way that left my father without a character or 
a home or a friend. This world. Jack, that I’ve 
come back to stripped him clean at his Grace’s nod, 
and he left it for ever.” 

The Duke paused for a moment, and then went 
on in an even, almost careless tone that warmed at 
instants and was as suddenly suppressed. 

He once told me that there had been a girl in 
his life; but she had to go too. He married after- 
wards, however, and when I was sixteen he sent me 
home to England. That’s the only time I’ve been 
in this country before, and a little of it went a con- 


THE DUKE 


53 


siderable way with me. I didn’t know his story 
then. I tried to see something of my family. They 
wouldn’t touch me with a pair of tongs. Nobody 
would.” 

“ Faith, and they didn’t know what a fine chap 
ye were! ” exclaimed Jack. 

But the Duke barely smiled. 

“ I tell you this, Jack, that I’d have let them 
whistle for me long enough before I came to play 
the gilded duke, if it were not that I had business 
here.” 

“ Business? Ye mean the management of your 
estates? ” 

“ Not that.” 

“ Taking your position in society? ” 

“ Not that.” 

“ Begetting little jooks, perhaps? ” 

“ No, not even that.” 

“ It’s a secret, then? ” 

“ It had better be a secret,” said the young Duke, 
“ for it concerns only myself and that painted man 
up there.” 

He pointed to the portrait of Duke Francis, and 
again with an intimation of defiance. 

Jack smiled. 

“Ye won’t talk like this for long,” he observed. 


54 


THE DUKE 


‘‘ Yes/' said the other, “ I suppose people will find 
out my virtues now and make a fool of me and 
laugh in their sleeves, and before very long they’ll 
get me into shape and I’ll thankfully let them for- 
give me for having once been a poor relation — and 
then I shall forget my business.” 

“ Nonsense, Lambert! ” 

It is sober truth. It has begun to happen al- 
ready. When I came into this room I began by 
telling my illustrious predecessor up there to stay 
where he is — with the devil. In ten minutes I was 
patronising poor ordinary humanity from the bal- 
cony of my palace.” 

And right ye were,” said Jack. What are 
poor devils like me made for if it isn’t to be patron- 
ised by a jook? ” 

The Duke’s eyes grew humorous again. 

'' Oh, I daresay it’ll please ’em,” he laughed, and 
then he broke out impatiently — 

And what of the life I’m losing — the gamble, 
the fun of the world? Look at this infernal place! ” 

He broke off suddenly, and made a sweeping 
gesture with his hand round the huge, unhomely 
saloon. Certainly at that moment it did not sug- 
gest much fun. 

Faith, ye’re hard to please,” said his friend. 


THE DUKE 


55 


shaking his head. “ Ye’ve the makings of as fine 
a jook as it was ever me good fortune to see, if ye 
just get used to the splendours of your station, me 
boy. And as for this gorjus apartment ” — he rose 
and looked round on the huddled furniture and the 
vacant floor— “ why all it needs is just a fine spread 
of carpet, or maybe Oriental rugs, and so forth, and 
this fine furniture scattered about in a natural kind 
of a way, and a string band in the next room, and 
lords and ladies sitting on the sofas, and a dinner of 
twenty-five courses inside ye — and there ye are! ” 

“ And there I am,” repeated his Grace; it was hard 
to say with what significance. 

“ Oh, it’s a splendid house for ye,” said Jack. 
Then his eyes began to twinkle, and assuming the 
most seductive smile, he remarked, “ There will be 
fine callers here, Lambert? ” 

“ Ought to be.” 

“ Supposing we were just to open a bottle now, 
to drink the Jook of Grandon’s health, me boy! ” 
His Grace laughed cheerfully. 

“ I haven’t the keys,” he said, “ but if the old lady 
downstairs can give us a bottle. I’m ready for a 
drink.” 

“ Be George, then we’ll try! ” said his friend, and 
forthwith rang the bell. 


56 


THE DUKE 


“ If it comes to the worst, we can always send out 
for it,” he observed philosophically. 

They heard the old caretaker’s steps echoing 
through the silence and emptiness of the house, and 
then one of those things happened by which fate 
seems to give a lead to mortals. 


CHAPTER VI 


'^HE ancient caretaker, as we have seen, was short 
* of sight and hard of hearing, and the sudden 
arrival of a real duke had done anything but clear 
these faculties. Indeed, she said to herself she had 
never been so flustered in her life, and now when she 
came into the half-lit drawing-room, the poor soul 
could hardly tell the Duke from the ducal furniture, 
much less his Grace from his Grace’s friend. She 
was sure he was young and tall, but then both these 
dazzling individuals unfortunately answered to that 
description. One who was standing up with a great 
air of command addressed her in the happiest mixt- 
ure of authority and condescension. 

“ We’d be obliged to ye, madame, if ye’d be so 
kind as to go down to the cellars and bring us a 
bottle of champagne. That’s the boy ye were want- 
ing, Lambert? ” 

Evidently this must be the Duke. 

“ Please, sir — your Grace, I should say — Sir Pur- 
suivant, he’s got the keys.” 

57 


58 


THE DUKE 


‘‘ Sir who? ” said Jack, with a wink at his Grace, 
but unconsciously assuming a more ducal air than 
ever. 

‘‘ Sir Pursuivant Debrette, your Grace; he’s been 
looking after the ’ouse till your Grace returned.” 

And Pm sure that’s very kind of him,” replied 
Jack, with magnificent condescension and a heavier 
wink at his friend. Is he me guardian, then, or 
what?” 

The late Book left ’im in charge, your Grace. 
They do call him a hexecutioner, your Grace.” 

‘‘ Faith, that sounds unpleasant! Maybe, though, 
you’ll be meaning executor? ” 

Yes, your Grace.” 

And so he’s got the keys? Well, then, as it’s 
rather late to rouse the gentleman and announce me 
arrival and me pleasure. I’ll just trouble ye to go 
out to the nearest bar and fetch me in a bottle of 
the best they keep. And a couple of glasses, d’ye 
see?” 

He dived into each of his trousers pockets in turn 
and turned to the Duke. 

Could ye oblige me with change, Lambert? 
I’ll pay ye back to-morrow, but to tell ye the truth 
the ceremonies that greeted me landing in England 
have somewhat exhausted me ready money. There 


THE DUKE 


59 


ye are now, just be as quick as ye can, like a good 
soul!’’ 

Overpowered with this instance of the humanity 
common to dukes and meaner folk, the old woman 
departed for the nearest bar. 

'' And now, Lambert,” cried Jade, what d’ye 
think of me for a jook? Ha, ha, ha! Be George, 
that’s the finest joke I’ve seen for many a day! Ye’ll 
have to wear your coronet to tell us apart ! ” 

His Grace sprang to his feet; he was smiling to 
himself at some humorous idea, and his eyes danced 
with excitement. Before he replied, he paced has- 
tily nearly to the far end of the room, turned abrupt- 
ly, and walked as quickly back. 

‘‘ How would you like to really be the Duke? ” he 
asked. 

‘‘ How would I like it? I tell ye, Lambert, ye’d 
hear no grumbles from me! ” 

Your Grace has then succeeded to the peerage,” 
said the Duke. 

Jack felt impelled in duty bound to laugh at a 
ducal jest, but there was something in the other’s 
look and voice which seemed to indicate that a mean- 
ing was hidden behind the words. 

‘‘ What d’ye mean? ” 

‘‘ You have no friends here? ” said the Duke. 


6o 


THE DUKE 


Divil a one north of the equator barring me old 
uncle in County Cork, and he’s been dead for six 
years.” 

‘‘ My own acquaintance,” said Lambert, ‘‘ is even 
less numerous. Not a soul knows Fve landed; I 
came a fortnight before they expected me. All the 
witnesses I have to show are in my pocket-book, and 
they won’t peach. Who’s to know which of us is 
which?” 

Then abruptly he smiled and asked — 

‘‘You would think that I was doing something 
for you in my turn if I made you a duke — even if 
it was only for a time? ” 

“ Ye’d be a combination of angel and conjuror, 
sir! Me a jook, too! Are ye lonely, then, in your 
exalted position, Lambert? ” 

“ For the next month, then,” said Lambert, “ you 
are Duke of Grandon.” 

“ And who the divil are you? ” 

“ Your confidential secretary. Jack Kavanagh.” 

“ We change places! ” cried Jack, in rising excite- 
ment now. “ Are ye meaning it? ” 

“It’s done! The change is made!” said Lam- 
bert, and then at the sight of Jack’s face, burst out 
laughing. First Jack stared, then he broke into a 
roar of laughter, and then he stopped suddenly and 
asked — 


THE DUKE 


6i 


“ But what about all the other jooks and duch- 
esses and what not that are waiting for ye with open 
arms? ” 

“ They can embrace you, Jack. Do you think I 
owe society anything? or my family? ” 

The abdicated Duke turned to the resplendent 
painted one, and with a wave of his hand, said — 

“ Your Grace, behold your successor! ” 

The new creation started and looked uncomfort- 
ably from the one to the other of these Grandons. 

“Be George!” he exclaimed in an odd voice. 
“ Did you see it? ” 

“ What?” 

“ As I’m a living sinner, the old boy moved his 
lips! I’ll not do it, Lambert! ” 

The Duke laughed. 

“ He was only saying, ‘ Come and be damned 
along o’ me.’ ” 

“ I’m not jesting, I tell ye. His lips moved.” 

“ Look again,” said Lambert, half-laughing, half- 
impressed by the fancy, despite himself. “ Do you 
think that man would condescend to move a muscle 
for the sake of you or me? ” 

Jack looked at the picture in silence. 

“ Maybe it’s the light that’s deceiving,” he ad- 
mitted. 


62 


THE DUKE 


“ Anyhow,” said Lambert, “ you can have him 
down to-morrow if you like.” 

“ Faith and I will! ” cried Jack; then suddenly he 
asked, “ And is it true that I’m to be Jook of Gran- 
don to-morrow? ” 

“ For the next month; while I am your private 
secretary.” 

“ But what are ye doing it for? ” 

“ Who do you suppose gets most fun for his 
money — the actor on the stage or the man who 
laughs at the farce from the stall? I do it because 
I want to. That’s a ducal privilege.” 

His friend looked at him up and down. 

“ There always was something queer about ye, 
Lambert,” he remarked. 

The Duke laughed and took out a pocket-book. 
From this he drew a little bunch of papers. 

“ That’s my claim pegged out,” he said, handing 
them over. “ For all practical purposes you are 
now Lambert Haselle, Duke of Grandon. You’ll 
find a birth certificate and a letter from Debrette 
and one or two more things.” 

He tore a leaf out the pocket-book, wrote on it 
in pencil, and added, “ All you do now is to sign 
this and you are as good a duke as any of ’em. This 
is all I’ve said : ‘ Received of Lambert Haselle, 


THE DUKE 


63 


styled Duke of Grandon, the following papers, 
birth certificate, &c., &c., to be held while I am 
warming his seat, and returned this day month.’ ” 

“ Right ye are,” said Jack, signing his name to 
this document. “ That’s all I do now? ” 

“ That’s all, your Grace.” 

“ Faith,” cried Jack, “ how fine it sounds ! ” 
Already he had an air of self-respect and impor- 
tance quite different from the insinuating adven- 
turer who had come into that room. No doubt of 
his capacity to play the part seemed to cross his 
mind. 

“ Be George,” he said, like a man chewing a very 
delicious morsel, “ this is the proudest moment of 
me life. If I don’t paint the town of London red 
for ye, Lambert, me name’s not the Jook of Gran- 
don! I’ll let ye see how the thing ought to be 
done, begad ! ” 

Lambert laughed a boyish laugh. 

“ Isn’t it a fine idea? ” he said. “ I’ll learn the 
game by looking over your cards.” 

“ And I’ll show ye how they’re played, me boy I 
I’ll take ye to Court, I’ll make ye a speech in Parlia- 
ment; I’ll have all the prettiest girls in the land 
running around me. I’ll make ye drunk every 
night if ye like. Faith, we’ll have times 1 ” 


64 


THE DUKE 


“ I’m afraid,” said the Duke in his careless yet 
distinct and half-arbitrary voice, “ that we’ll have 
to make one or two rules for this game. You 
mustn’t appear at Court, Jack, and you mustn’t 
take your seat in the House of Lords; it might be 
awkward afterwards. You may have as many 
pretty girls round you as you like, and make a fool 
of yourself as much as you please, only ” — he hesi- 
tated and a certain look that the oldest of the ducal 
chairs had seen on more than one before him came 
over his face — “ only do it like a Duke of Grandon, 
d’you see? ” 

“ As ye like, me boy,” said Jack cheerfully. “ Me 
private and confidential secretary, the honest and 
intelligent Jack Kavanagh, will prompt me when- 
even I happen to forget me dignity.” 

“ And now that everything’s settled,” said Lam- 
bert, “ what does your Grace propose to do first? ” 

“ Had we not better get hold of me executor, eh, 
Lambert? ” 

“ Sir What’s-his-name Debrette? Yes. I should 
think he’d start you all right. I’ve got his address 
somewhere. We’ll send him a line telling him to 
call here to-morrow. Meantime I’ll post you up in 
my past sins — you may have to answer questions 
and that sort of thing.” 


THE DUKE 


65 


“ Faith, yes,” said Jack, “ if I have to lie, it’s as 
well to tell the truth while I’m about it. And here 
the old lady comes, begad, blessed be the clink of 
the glasses she’s carrying! Lambert, me boy. I’ve 
a thirst on me worthy of any duke in the land. Just 
to think there’s been a new creation in the peerage 
since we sent out for the boy, and we’re going to 
toast another Duke of Grandon ! ” 


CHAPTER VII 


A T the precise hour of ten Sir Pursuivant De- 
brette sat down to the most appetising of 
bachelor breakfasts. Whatever hours he had kept 
overnight, at ten punctually he always breakfasted 
when he was in town. Any time earlier would make 
the day so confoundedly long, and as he had once 
happened to fix on ten, anything later would have 
been repugnant to his orthodox habit of mind. He 
was perfectly shaved and groomed, and at this hour 
of ease wore a luxurious smoking-jacket with blue 
lining and lapelles, a bit of colour that set in the 
stronger relief his long, unhandsome face and tight 
line of a mouth. Out of the window he could see 
the sun shining upon the opposite side of St. James’ 
Street, and as it was a warm May morning, and the 
sash had been a little lowered, the sounds of the 
streets came in clearly and cheerfully. 

His little flat was as comfortable as you could 
find in town, almost next to his club, and within a 
short walk of Grandon House; and the life of its 
66 


THE DUKE 


67 


tenant had become so regular, even its irregulari- 
ties, and he knew the world so well, that — if one 
could imagine Sir Pursuivant entering upon so 
original a speculation — he would doubtless have 
been prepared to lay long odds against experienc- 
ing anything in the nature of a violent surprise on 
at least 364 days in the year. 

His man removed the cover from the omelette 
and silently withdrew; Sir Pursuivant deliberately 
helped himself to one-half of that perfectly pre- 
pared dish, poured himself a cup of coffee, and then 
his light eyes fell upon his little pile of letters. He 
took up the first, and suddenly a flash of expression 
came into them. He turned it over and over again; 
he looked at the postmark. 

“ Gad ! ” he reflected. “ I must have left some 
of Frank’s stationery in the house; but who the 
deuce has had the cheek to use it? and how did they 
get it? ” 

There could be no doubt about it; the ducal coro- 
net was plain to see, and the postmark was Lon- 
don. 

He broke the envelope, and then, for once in a 
way. Sir Pursuivant was fairly dumbfoundered. 

“ He’s come ! The devil ! ‘ Kind enough to 

meet me at Grandon House — twelve o’clock — 


68 


THE DUKE 


come home by an earlier boat ! ’ The deuce and 

all! ‘Yours faithfully, Grandon M Well, Tm ’’ 

Sir Pursuivant dropped the letter and stared out 
of the window; then he observed a postscript — 

“ ‘ Please bring the keys/ He means to open 
the place at once, then ! Gad ! my duties have be- 
gun, it seems.” 

Sir Pursuivant was not a man to remain long 
musing. He returned to the coffee and omelette 
while they were yet in their first bloom, breakfasted 
even more deliberately than usual, and very deliber- 
ately indeed selected and lit a cigar. 

At seven minutes to twelve he left his door, 
dressed and brushed immaculately. It was a per- 
fect morning and already hot in the sun. He 
paced slowly and gravely, nodding absently to an 
acquaintance or two, and wondering more and 
more as he walked. 

“ Why the deuce couldn’t he have let me know 
before he came? Fd have had things ready for 

him, and told people, and Gad, I wonder 

what sort of man he is? ” 

There was nothing changed about Grandon 
House as yet; the blinds were still down, and the 
hatchment still hung there. Sir Pursuivant began 
to wonder whether it could possibly be a hoax. 


THE DUKE 


69 


“ It’s SO d d rum,” he reflected. 

The old caretaker opened the door. Yes, his 
Grace was in the library. Would Sir Pursuivant 
walk in? 

Sir Pursuivant led the way, and then paused. 

“ Announce me,” he said. 

“ Sir Pursuivant Debrette, your Grace.” 

And with that the Baronet found himself in the 
presence of his Grace of Grandon. 

“Who’s the other man?” was his first swift 
thought, and then he bowed stiffly and looked 
keenly at the seventh Duke. 

Already, with the resource of an adventurer. Jack 
Kavanagh had managed to dress himself in a high- 
ly presentable, if somewhat conspicuous, suit of 
tweeds and a pair of very bright yellow boots which 
that very morning had reposed in a shop in the 
Strand under a label marked “ 7s. 6d. — wonderful 
value.” (“ They’ll last till I get me first cheque,” 
he had remarked.) His hair was polished, his 
moustache was carefully waxed, and his manner 
was overbrimming with a magnificent cordiality. 

“ How are ye, me dear Sir Pursuivant? ” he cried, 
grasping the Baronet’s hand and shaking it heartily. 
“ ’Tis a real pleasure to see ye. I hope I haven’t 
disturbed ye too early? ” 


70 


THE DUKE 


“ Delighted to come, your Grace,” replied Sir 
Pursuivant, shaking the ducal hand with the re- 
spect due to so august a member. “ Very happy 
to see you in Grandon House — best congratula- 
tions on cornin’ into the dukedom.” 

“ Thank ye, sir; thank ye,” said his spurious 
Grace, with much affability. “ Faith, and I mean 
to enjoy it, too ! ” 

“ I hope you will,” responded Sir Pursuivant, 
with what might be read as an indulgent smile. 

“ You’re a young man, your Grace, and — er — 
that sort of thing, and — er — it’s a great position.” 

He shot a cross-glance at the third person, who 
had remained standing carelessly on one side all 
this time, with a half-humorous look on his face 
that the Baronet had instantly and instinctively re- 
sented. 

“ Be George! ” exclaimed the Duke Jack, “ I’d 
almost forgotten to introduce me private secretary; 
Mr. Kavanagh — Sir Pursuivant Debrette.” 

The secretary made a motion as if he too would 
shake hands, but Sir Pursuivant, ignoring this, 
treated him to his slightest bow. 

“ My lesson begins,” the secretary reflected. 

“ Can’t have this chap about long,” thought Sir 
Pursuivant. 


THE DUKE 


71 


“ An old friend of mine,” his Grace went on; “a 
man who’s stood by me side in difficulties and dan- 
ger, sir, has Jack Kavanagh, and a right good sort 
he is; me confidential friend, in fact. Sir Pursuivant. 
Ye may talk as freely in his presence as into me 
own private ear; we have no secrets, sir ! ” 

This was said with a gracious wave of the hand 
and that air of enthusiastic conviction that became 
his Grace so naturally; but Sir Pursuivant appeared 
singularly unmoved. 

“ Very glad to meet Mr. — er ” 

“ Kavanagh,” said his Grace. 

“ Kavanagh,” repeated Sir Pursuivant, drily. 
The secretary bowed his acknowledgment of this 
compliment, but it seemed to the suspicious eyes 
of the Baronet that even the inclination was ironi- 
cal. 

“ And now,” said the Duke Jack, “ Pll be need- 
ing your advice, me dear Sir Pursuivant, for to tell 
ye the honest truth Pve never been a jook before, 
and Pm not precisely sure how to begin, d’ye see? ” 
” It — er — depends on what you want to do first. 
You intend to spend the season in town, I sup- 
pose? ” 

“ Be George, and I do ! When I’ve exhausted 
the pleasures of London of course I’ll be thinking 


72 


THE DUKE 


of paying a visit to some of me country seats; but 
we’ll begin with town. Now, this elegant house — 
it’s a trifle dismantled at present; I’ll be needing 
servants and so on. We’d best begin with that.” 

“ I’ll see to that this morning,” said Sir Pursui- 
vant promptly. 

“ I can leave it to you, then? ” 

“ If you please; I’m sure I’ll be delighted to do 
anythin’ I can.” 

“ Thank ye, sir. I’m much obliged. Then in the 
matter of money — I’ll need a cheque or so.” 

“ I’ll manage that,” said the Baronet briefly. 

“ And there’s a guardian for ye ! ” cried his Grace. 
“ For it isn’t me legal guardian ye are, it’s surely me 
guardian angel 1 ” 

Sir Pursuivant smiled — an unmistakable smile. 

“ Happy to be of any service,” he answered. 
“ Poor Frank — last Duke — asked me to do what I 
could; besides, I’ve nothin’ much else to do.” 

“ By the by,” exclaimed his Grace, as if suddenly 
struck with a thought, “ while I happen to think of 
it, have ye brought the keys along? ” 

Sir Pursuivant laid the bunch on the table. His 
Grace fingered them, glanced at his secretary, and 
then, apparently inspired afresh, remarked, “ ’Tis a 
warm morning, and ye’ve had a walk in the sun. 


THE DUKE 


73 


Sir Pursuivant; what d’ye say to trying whether 
any of these fits the cellar-door? ” 

He winked a ducal wink that left the Baronet 
gasping, and turning to his secretary, began in his 
most insinuating voice — 

“ Would ye be so very kind, Lamb ” 

But at this point a most expressive grimace in- 
terrupted his remark. 

“ Jack, me boy,” he continued hastily, “ me wits 
are wandering; would ye be so very kind as just to 
try the keyhole? ” 

“ Your Grace has only to command,” said the 
secretary gravely, taking up the keys. 

“Thank ye. Jack; a bottle of champagne. Sir 
Pursuivant? Bring up a couple, as ye’re at it. Jack. 
Faith, and I’m thirsty ! ” 

Nothing of this dialogue had been lost upon the 
Baronet. 

“ His Grace is infernally polite to his secretary,” 
he reflected. “ Doesn’t seem sure of the name 
either.” 

The two bottles and three glasses appeared, and 
though Sir Pursuivant was not in the habit of 
drinking champagne at that hour of the morning, 
the cordiality of his Grace was irresistible. 

“ Gad. Frank’s best ! ” he said to himself, as he 
sipped his glass. 


74 


THE DUKE 


‘‘ And two bottles at a time at twelve o’clock in 
the morning, by Jove! I wonder what he’ll take 
at three ! ” 

But it was surprising to see how quickly he 
seemed to grow accustomed to this heterodoxy. 
At first he sipped the wine austerely, glancing cold 
disapproval at the extra bottle, while his conversa- 
tion took a genealogical turn and he endeavoured 
at once to bring home the significance of a duke 
and the space that separated him from ordinary 
mortals, secretaries for instance. The man looks 
too devilish at home,” he thought as he watched 
‘‘ Mr. Kavanagh ” from the corner of his eye.) 
Gradually, however, his austerity began to melt. 
He watched the second bottle being uncorked 
without any sign of discomfort, and the sportsman 
began to rise to the surface. He hailed with actual 
enthusiasm his host’s various proposals to keep a 
racing stud, a stableful of hunters, a houseful of 
guests in November, and the other schemes which 
the Duke Jack broached with his embroidery of 
untrammelled imagination. He even condescended 
to occasionally address the secretary, though that 
superfluous person, to do him justice, left most of 
the talk to the glib tongue of his Grace. At last 
he remembered the motherly sisters. 


THE DUKE 


75 


“ I’ll tell you what, your Grace,” he said. ” You 
want to go out to routs and balls and all that, of 
course — see decent society, don’t you know. I’m 
not much of a ladies’ man myself, but you’re young, 
and that sort of thing. Might as well get to know 
the best people at once. I’ll send Frank’s sisters 
round. What? Lady Roulett and Lady Georgi- 
ana; I told you all about ’em.” 

“ I’m sure I’ll be most happy to receive them,” 
replied the Duke Jack graciously. “ Delighted, 
sir, in fact ! ” 

“ And they’ll be keen enough,” said Sir Pursui- 
vant with a chuckle. “ Well, then. I’ll go and see 
about settin’ you up decently. Very glad you’ve 
come. Good mornin’.” 

He bent again over the ducal hand, bowed slight- 
ly to the secretary, and stalked out of Grandon 
House. 

“ Gad,” he reflected with a grin, as he paced 
along at a smarter walk than before, “ this Duke’s 
goin’ to be a lively customer, or I’m mistaken. 
Two bottles of fizz before lunch — not a bad begin- 
nin’ ! Needs a bit of polishin’ up, but he might 
have bin a lot worse — he’s white at least, thank 
Heaven! How the deuce, though, did he get an 
Irish accent? ” 


CHAPTER VIII 


RANDON HOUSE had come to life again; 
the blinds were up, the hatchment down; a 
whole retinue of servants had arrived, from a re- 
spectable housekeeper and a portly butler down to 
a full complement of scullery-maids; the public 
rooms were already prepared for the reception of 
the distinguished guests who only awaited a cor- 
onetted invitation-card; the bedroom carpets were 
being laid; the prince's kiss upon the sleeping 
beauty's lips could hardly have acted more prompt- 
ly than Sir Pursuivant Debrette. It was only the 
day after his first call, and now the whole palace was 
awake. The Duke Jack had had another meeting 
with the Baronet, a brief but entirely satisfactory 
interview with his lawyer, another with a hastily 
summoned tailor, a third with an eminent boot- 
maker, a fourth with a renowned hatter, and to all 
these deeply honoured individuals he had shown 
the liveliest and most pleasing sense of his own 
position and it's distance from theirs. A larger 
76 


THE DUKE 


77 


cheque than he had ever seen in his life was in his 
pocket, and his generous nature was now chiefly 
concerned how he could most swiftly spend it. 

“ There’s plenty more where that came from, me 
boy, never fear ! ” he remarked to his secretary, as 
they surveyed the great drawing-room in its new 
aspect. 

The secretary’s hands were in his pockets and a 
pipe between his teeth; his Grace had made no com- 
ment, but his new-born sense of the fitness of things 
already disapproved of a common briar in such sur- 
roundings. 

“ I say,” he answered abruptly, “ I don’t want to 
appear stingy or anything, but if you don’t look 
out you’ll have to mortgage the estates before the 
month is up. We’d better have some sort of an 
understanding about the money part.” 

“ Trust me, Lambert,” said his Grace magnifi- 
cently. “ I must live up to me position, ye under- 
stand. I know what’s wanted, me boy.” 

The secretary reflected for a moment. 

“ I’ll make it a couple of thousand for personal 
expenses.” 

“ A couple of thousand — for a jook ! ” exclaimed 
his Grace. “ Ye’re joking! ” 

“ Of course,” his secretary continued, “ I don’t 


78 


THE DUKE 


count servants and horses and carriages and things 
that are needed anyhow, and I don’t include the 
sums generously supplied to the private secretary. 
A couple of thousand to paint things red ought to 
last for a month. If you want any more, I’ll have 
to ask how you spent the last.” 

He smiled as he said this, but his Grace knew 
Lambert of old, and he had more than a suspicion 
that he would carry out the threat. He had never 
in his life been able to account afterwards for so 
much as a penny, and this struck him as an exceed- 
ingly scurvy way to treat a duke. 

“ A beggarly two thousand for the Jook of Gran- 
don — and me to account for it? Hang it, Lam- 
bert ” 

“ You needn’t account for it,” the secretary in- 
terrupted quietly, “ unless you ask for more. As 
for the expenses of running the establishment, leave 
’em to Sir Pursuivant, and tell him to show ’em to 
me. 

So entirely had his spurious Grace entered into 
the spirit of the part, that it took him a moment's 
reflection to realise that, like certain others of his 
nationality, he must rest content with a grievance. 

As ye please," he replied, without any great ap- 
pearance of pleasure on his own part. 


THE DUKE 


79 


At this moment the door was thrown open, and 
the sonorous voice of the portly new butler an- 
nounced, “ The Lady Georgiana Stock ! — the 
Misses Stock ! ” 

The gracious lady had wasted no time; she had 
heard the news, insisted upon and obtained a brief 
interview with Sir Pursuivant, and furnished with 
all the news that he could give, she now sailed in, 
the first in the field. Her eagle eye took in the es- 
sentials at a glance. So here was the Duke; a most 
presentable young man — after a little training by 
a motherly relative. And there was that secretary, 
stretched at full length on the sofa, smoking a pipe. 
It was indeed high time she came. 

The secretary sprang to his feet and slipped the 
pipe into his pocket as the Lady Georgiana sailed 
up the room; her smile spread, her two daughters 
smiling in tow. 

“ Ah, your Grace,” she cried, “ welcome to Eng- 
land ! Sir Pursuivant positively insisted that I 
should call to-day, and after all, it is only right that 
poor Frank’s sister should be the first to welcome 
his successor! My daughters — this is Julia, and 
this child is Maria; your cousins — I may call them 
sor 

For a moment his Grace was actually embar- 


8o 


THE DUKE 


rassed; his life of late years had not taken him much 
into drawing-rooms, and here he was suddenly im- 
posing upon a lady of fashion and title, a lady, too, 
who looked as though she were unaccustomed to 
be trifled with. He shook hands all round, mum- 
bled a greeting, and instinctively fell back on his 
secretary. 

Me secretary, Mr. Has^ — Mr. Kavanagh,’’ he 
said, somewhat hurriedly. 

The mother bowed stiffly, the daughters barely 
inclined their heads. 

I continue to learn,’’ thought the secretary. 

Lady Georgiana looked round the room. 

You have indeed lost no time,” she said. The 
house looks charming already; but, oh, how it re- 
minds me of poor Frank ! Though ” (and here she 
sniffed delicately and looked straight at the secre- 
tary) in his time this was not used as the smoking- 
room. Do you intend to convert it? ” she added, 
turning to his Grace. 

We hardly expected callers so soon,” said the 
secretary, with a polite smile and quite unabashed. 

It gave her quite a shock to find this man pos- 
sessed of such a pleasant voice and apparently civil- 
ised manner, and so, presumably to show him cour- 
tesy, she stared at him in silence for a moment. 


THE DUKE 


8l 


On his part he looked at her imperturbably, while 
the daughters’ glances seemed to say, “ Oh, 
mamma, don’t answer such a person ! ” 

Mamma, in fact, did not answer the person; she 
beamed again upon the Duke Jack, and presently 
he found himself the object of so much interest and 
so many smiles that his assurance could not but 
return. And he had need of it too, for Lady Geor- 
giana, in the exuberance of her motherly sympathy, 
put a number of questions that only the readiest wit 
and imagination could answer. Where he had 
been, what he had been doing, how much he re- 
membered of England when he was here before, 
how old he was then, did he know so and so, or such 
and such a place, what adventures he had been 
through; these and similar inquiries were made in 
such a beneficent and interested manner that his 
Grace at length found himself in danger of saying 
too much rather than too little. On the whole he 
came out of the ordeal with more than credit — with 
distinction, in fact; and it is safe to say that few Eng- 
lish dukes have enjoyed such varied and exciting 
experiences as he of Grandon now retailed to his fair 
and sympathetic audience. The lovely Julia felt 
that she could have excused such a hero for being 
black after all, while the dear child Maria thought 


82 


THE DUKE 


no more of that mysterious Irish accent; in fact, it 
became his Grace most admirably. 

The secretary all this time was left severely in the 
cold. Once he hazarded a remark to Miss Julia, 
but that lady (a fifth-season belle whose unquestion- 
ably Haselle features looked as though they might 
last successfully through five more) parried his re- 
mark with a deftness acquired at the expense of 
various ineligibles. Then he tried the more purely 
Stock yet fair Miss Maria, only to be repulsed less 
adroitly but quite as effectually; and both returned 
immediately to his Grace's narrative. The Lady 
Georgiana had indeed every reason to feel satisfied 
with her daughters — and the secretary with his ex- 
perience. 

The conversation was progressing thus smooth- 
ly, when the door again opened and the portly but- 
ler announced — 

Lady Roulett!" 

Lady Roulett's gratification at seeing her sister 
and nieces already in possession of the drawing- 
room and Duke only displayed itself in a quick 
change of countenance followed by as swift a 
return to her natural graces of manner. She 
greeted everybody effusively, vouchsafing a win- 
ning smile even to the secretary. His Grace 


THE DUKE 


83 


himself was evidently beginning to be charmed 
by her air as she welcomed him with the kind- 
est look and told him how pleased she was that 
dear Sir Pursuivant had encouraged her to call 
without further formality, when her sister, taking 
advantage of her first pause, cut in with — 

“ And now, before I forget, I want you to prom- 
ise that you will come to my reception to-morrow 
night, Duke. You will come? ” 

“ With the utmost pleasure, believe me,” replied 
his Grace cordially, throwing a glance at the fair 
Julia. 

“ I shall send you a card to-night, though of 
course it is hardly necessary for a cousins’ party.” 

The Duke Jack blushed with pleasure; he began 
to believe he really was a cousin of these delightful 
people. 

Lady Georgiana observed the effect of her words, 
and she felt she could hardly better it. She saw 
Julia catch his Grace’s ear and observed Maria loy- 
ally engross her aunt; it seemed to her a good mo- 
ment for having a final word with the secretary. 
A final word, for Lady Georgiana’s views with re- 
gard to that person’s tenure of office were already 
settled. 


CHAPTER IX 


T ADY GEORGIANA addressed herself to the 
^ secretary with an air of what he internally 
designated condescending insolence. Yet he was 
not in the slightest dismayed; he had a feeling like 
a man in a dozing dream, who is all the time con- 
scious that the adventure can end and the puppets 
vanish whenever he chooses to awake. 

With her smile set, and looking as straight at 
him as though she were examining a witness, she 
began with the direct inquiry — 

‘‘ How long do you propose to remain in Eng- 
land, Mr. . I am afraid I did not catch your 

name? 

“ Kavanagh,’’ replied the secretary. 

‘‘ Ka — ? Kavanagh?’’ repeated the lady. 

‘‘ Yes,’' said the secretary. “ Spelt with a K.” 

Lady Georgiana stared for a moment at the no- 
tion that she could possibly be interested in the 
spelling, and then she continued — 

‘‘ And how long do you propose to stay in Eng- 
land?” 


84 


THE DUKE 85 

“ Till my departure,” replied the secretary, with 
much politeness. 

“ And when is that? ” 

“ I am unable to say at present.” 

” You are a colonial, I understand? ” 

“ I have lived in the colonies.” 

“ And you became acquainted with the Duke 
there? ” 

“ I made my first acquaintance with his Grace 
abroad.” 

“ You have known him for some time? ” 

“For a considerable period,” replied the secre- 
tary, with the flicker of a smile. 

“ Some years? ” 

“ Yes, for some years.” 

“ He brought you back with him, I presume? ” 

“ No, we arrived separately.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Lady Georgiana. “ Then hearing 
of his succession to the dukedom of Grandon, you 
came to — er ” 

“ Congratulate him,” suggested the secretary. 

“ That is then how you met again? ” 

“ It was under such circumstances that we 
met.” 

“ This secretaryship is then an extremely recent 
post?” 


86 


THE DUKE 


'' Just founded. You see, there were previously 
no funds for the purpose.” 

'‘Then you induced him to create the office?” 
asked the lady, with barely concealed contempt. 

" And advance the salary,” said the secretary, un- 
ruffled. 

" Do you think he requires a secretary, Mr. — er — 
Kavanagh? ” 

" You had better ask him,” replied the secretary, 
with perfect politeness. 

Lady Georgiana was fairly put out of coun- 
tenance for a moment, but the next, with even 
more of what the secretary heretically deemed in- 
solence, she had returned to the attack. 

" You realise the change that has come over Mr. 
Haselle’s fortunes since you knew him last; the dif- 
ference in position that now exists between him and 
the acquaintances with whom he was previously on 
terms of apparent equality? ” 

" I suppose a duke is rather a swell,” the secre- 
tary admitted. 

To talk so lightly of such a dignity was a sacrilege 
that roused Lady Georgiana more than anything 
this person had said. 

" His place is now entirely removed from his 
former milieu, Mr. Kavanagh. He belongs to a 


tHE DUKE 


87 


different world, and you will see how impossible it is 
that even with the kindest intentions he can affect 
the position of those who — in fact who are not born 
into the same sphere.” 

“ My experience of dukes and their milieu, or 
whatever you call it, hasn’t been long,” said the sec- 
retary, “ but it strikes me a duke has only to whistle 
the tune and the milieu will dance whatever he 
wants ’em to.” 

Lady Georgiana contained herself with difficulty, 
but still smiling her set smile, she replied — 

“ You speak of society as though you knew 
it.” 

“ Not I,” said the secretary carelessly, “ I’m only 
beginning to make its acquaintance.” 

“ That is not so easy to make, Mr. Kavanagh.” 

“ You are rather particular, then? ” 

“We are not promiscuous in our set, whatever 
some people may be.” 

“ I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with me now 
and then,” said the secretary, with a smile that 
would have disarmed any but the most determined. 
Lady Georgiana, however, was determined. In- 
stinctively she felt that this young man’s influence 
upon his Grace was what she would have emphati- 
cally, if vaguely, termed, undesirable. She was a 


88 


THE DUKE 


shrewd observer, and already had judged that his 
Grace was peculiarly amenable to influences. 

‘‘ You propose, then, to take every advantage of 
your colonial acquaintance with the Duke? 

Every advantage I choose,’’ the secretary re- 
plied. As he said it. Lady Georgiana was suddenly 
conscious of his faint resemblance to somebody. It 
was a passing look, something too in the voice per- 
haps, something she knew and yet something that 
eluded her. The odd thing was that it seemed sin- 
gularly germane to the room and the surroundings. 

The old furniture could have told her what it was 
an echo of, but they held their wooden tongues. 

I hope to have the pleasure of coming to your 
house to-morrow night,” he added, with another 
curiously reminiscent look. 

Lady Georgiana’s breath was fairly taken away; 
her slightest snubs were usually quite sufficient; 
now she had apparently wasted a couple of dozen 
of the most unmistakable. 

Indeed? ” she asked, with a stare. 

His Grace will wish it.” 

‘‘Will he, Mr. Kavanagh?” 

“ Ask him.” 

But Lady Georgiana dared not put it to such a 
test — at present. The secretary was looking at her 


THE DUKE 


89 


imperturbably, and to her own surprise she sud- 
denly found herself incapable of even saying any- 
thing rude, so she abruptly concluded this extreme- 
ly unsatisfactory conversation by turning her back 
and beaming upon his Grace again. There was 
yet a point of tactics to be settled. Could she go 
now and leave Lady Roulett in possession? In a 
moment it was decided; the door once more opened 
and Sir Pursuivant Debrette was announced. 

“ Gad, the mothers haven’t bin long in cornin’,” 
thought the Baronet, with an inward chuckle. 

The two sisters rose together; they both felt their 
first hand was played; and Lady Georgiana was 
almost satisfied with the way the cards had fallen. 
One thing only rankled. 

“ Julia,” she remarked as they drove away, “ that 
person Kavanagh is an impudent and vulgar 
man.” 

“ How ever did the Duke get hold of him? ” said 
Julia. “ He seems charming.” 

“ Isn’t he,” echoed Maria. 

“ It was doubtless some foolish piece of generos- 
ity on his part. The man himself admits that he 
intruded himself as soon as the Duke came home 
and proposed that he should be his secretary ! ” 

“ Good gracious ! ” cried the girls. 


90 


THE DUKE 


Do you mean to say, mamma, the Duke allowed 
him?’’ 

‘‘ For the present,” said their mother, with a grim 
look. He is coming to-morrow with the Duke, 
he tells me,” she added. 

‘‘ But we didn’t ask him ! ” cried Maria. 

I am afraid he will come all the same.” 

You should have told him ” began Julia. 

I couldn’t exactly forbid him, Julia,” snapped 
Lady Georgiana, who to tell the truth was now be- 
ginning to reproach herself for a lack of firmness. 

After all he isn’t so very bad looking,” said 
Maria. 

I failed to perceive anything in his favour,” 
replied Lady Georgiana, and if he does come, I 
do not wish to be responsible for his introduction 
to any of my guests. If the Duke chooses to bring 
him, he must look after him.” 

'' Certainly,” said Julia. / have no intention of 
introducing him to any one.” 

“ Nor I,” added Maria. 

And thereupon the conversation turned to the 
contrasted merits of his Grace. 

Meanwhile, a highly indignant lady was driving 
in another carriage. 

Lady Roulett’s opinion of her sister’s conduct 


THE DUKE 


91 


could hardly be contained till she reached her house, 
where by the greatest good-fortune she found her 
spouse at home to listen to her wrongs. 

“ Fred ! ” she cried, “ what do you think Georgi- 
ana has done? ” 

Frederick Flutter, Lord Roulett, had been a 
handsome man of the blue-eyed, fair-moustached 
type; now he was rather “ puffy,” both in face and 
person; his cheeks were just a little too much suf- 
fused with a once becoming pink, his eyes were 
perhaps a trifle watery, and his manner was some- 
what effusive. Neither strength nor austerity, in 
fact, were very obvious; yet he was a highly popular 
peer. 

“ Can’t imagine,” he replied genially. 

“ She has had the indecency to bring both her 
daughters and throw them at that young man’s 
head within twenty-four hours of his landing 1 ” 

“ Which young man? ” 

“ The Duke, of course ! You may be sure Geor- 
giana had a sufficient motive ! ” 

“Hullo! You bin there this afternoon?” ex- 
claimed his Lordship, with more interest. “ What 
kind of a chap is he? ” 

“ Oh, he might be worse. I think he’d do, if he 
was only left alone and had a chance. But just to 


92 


THE DUKE 


think of Georgiana bringing both the girls to call 
upon a bachelor like that ! ” 

Lord Roulett laughed; the spectacle of his wife 
championing the orthodoxies against the encroach- 
ments of Lady Georgiana Stock appeared to amuse 
him. 

By Jove, devilish improper ! Ha ! ha ! 

“ I was disgusted, Fred,’’ said his wife severely. 
Do you know they are having him at their house 
to-morrow night? ” 

I must come. I should like to see the beggar. 
He’s quite young, isn’t he? ” 

Lady Roulett knew her husband. She gave him 
a penetrating glance, and then mused for a mo- 
ment. 

Yes,” she said, ‘‘ he is a young man, and I’ve 
no doubt, Fred, he’d be delighted if you would 
show him some attention. I’ll introduce you to- 
morrow night — as early as possible. Only take 
care; you have Georgiana watching you, and she 

won’t hesitate to warn him, if ” 

‘‘ If what? ” asked her husband, with a wonderful 
air both of innocence and dignity. 

‘‘ If she hears he is playing high — or anything.” 
Lord Roulett laughed again. 

‘‘ What hawks you women are,” he said. 


CHAPTER X 


T ADY GEORGIANA STOCK had the reputa- 
^ tion of knowing by sight a greater number of 
her guests than any other hostess in London. Few 
were fortunate enough to obtain cards for even her 
most crowded receptions who had not some excel- 
lent recommendation to her notice. Considering 
her husband’s political eminence, this consistent 
exclusiveness speaks volumes for her Ladyship’s 
character. The young Duke of Grandon could not 
have chosen a more suitable occasion for his debut. 

His Grace and his secretary rolled up to the door 
in a carriage and behind a pair of horses that had 
all been purchased that very morning under Sir Pur- 
suivant’s able supervision. As the eight hoofs rat- 
tled on the roadway and the wheels spun swiftly and 
silently behind, the bright and noisy circumstances 
of the streets flitting by the windows, the two cock- 
aded figures upright and immovable on the box, the 
hearts within could scarcely fail to be a little stirred. 
It was not thus that they had gone about their anti- 
podean nights’ entertainment. 


93 


94 


THE DUKE 


Begad! '' exclaimed the Duke Jack, this is the 
way to travel, Lambert! What would some of me 
friends say if they saw me now? ’’ 

'‘Stop thief! probably,” said Lambert, with a 
laugh. 

A few days ago his Grace would have laughed too ; 
now he resented the insinuation. He was fast filling 
the ducal mould. 

As their steeds champed slowly up the string be- 
fore the house, they had glimpses of bright wraps 
and brighter faces, of white scarves and shining hats, 
passing through a little crowd of sightseers to the 
lighted doors. 

" Did you see the diamonds? ” cried the Duke 
Jack. " Be George, they’re all the real swells 
here!” 

In their turn they went up the strip of carpet on 
the steps, and the Duke of Grandon entered society. 

Lady Georgiana’s was a spacious mansion, and it 
was already full to overflowing of guests. The two 
young men had never before seen such a kaleido- 
scope of colours and jewels, of fair faces and faces 
less fair, of shirt-fronts and waistcoat buttons, of 
flowers and lights and gentle perfumes and English 
voices. They struggled up a crowded stair, brush- 
ing close past the perfumes and the waistcoats, till 


THE DUKE 


9S 


they came to their gracious hostess and a stout, 
white-whiskered gentleman whose responsible ap- 
pearance showed him to be no less than the Right 
Honourable John Sanderson Stock, member of her 
Majesty’s present Cabinet of Ministers. 

A stentorian voice bellowed, The Duke of 
Grandon!” and then, with less emphasis, ‘‘Mr. 
Havanner! ” 

Lady Georgiana and her husband’s reception of 
the first of these two guests must have satisfied 
everybody in the vicinity who wondered whether 
they had heard his name and title aright. An eddy 
of stir and whisper rippled through the rooms. He 
was really here, then — that mysterious, romantic 
peer! Already he had become the hero of a hun- 
dred stories. A dangerous person in love and war, 
it was universally admitted; a combination of sea- 
sonable lion and fashionable Duke; a man who 
might have lectured to enthralled audiences or ex- 
hibited himself at the Royal Aquarium, had his dig- 
nity permitted him thus to display his singular per- 
son and accomplishments. 

Any diffidence that his Grace might have felt at 
first, vanished swiftly before the flattering attentions 
paid him by the speech and eyes of every one he met. 
The Misses Julia and Maria Stock greeted him with 


96 


THE DUKE 


the gay familiarity of relations, dowagers smiled, dis- 
tinguished elderly gentlemen were politely hearty. 
He found words for them all coming easily to his 
tongue, and he soon perceived that so long as he 
spoke and smiled there was really no necessity to 
think of the matter of his remarks. Already, in 
fact, he had gauged the requirements of society. 

Unfortunately, however, a rose-leaf will here and 
there crumple even in the softest beds. A swift 
half-hour or so had flown by, and his Grace was 
thinking to himself, “ Be George, I’m getting on 
famously ! ” when he found himself engaged by his 
host. His fellow-guests, judiciously recognising 
the privacy that two such personages would prefer, 
left them as many square inches to themselves as 
circumstances permitted. The opportunity was too 
good to be lost, and the right honourable gentleman 
embarked upon a little serious conversation. 

“ No doubt we shall see you in the House of 
Lords very soon, your Grace? ” he began, with an 
air of geniality blended with the gravity that such 
an allusion calls for. 

“ To tell ye the truth,” replied his Grace can- 
didly, “ I was thinking of having me fling first be- 
fore taking up the duties of me position.” 

Mr. Stock looked a trifle taken aback, but the 


THE DUKE 


97 


Duke Jack was too thoroughly pleased with himself 
by this time to doubt the appropriateness of any- 
thing he might be graciously pleased to remark. 

I hope I am right in assuming,” said Mr. Stock, 
that you propose to follow those constitutional 
principles which have guided your distinguished 
family through the last two centuries? A Duke of 
Grandon on the other side would be unthinkable ! ” 
‘‘ Be George and I do! Me ancestors’ policy is 
me own, whatever it was! ” 

‘‘ Ah, your Grace is then entirely of our way of 
thinking? ” 

‘‘ Entirely, sir! ” cried his Grace heartily, trusting 
that this unqualified declaration would end the con- 
versation. But the Right Honourable John Stock 
has the reputation of never relinquishing a button- 
hole. 

“ I am delighted, your Grace,” he said cordially, 
delighted, I assure you, at finding so influential a 
recruit. The late Duke was one of the mainstays 
of the party; your family influence, believe me, is 
very considerable. Your declaration will set our 
minds at ease on a point which has caused us some 
anxiety.” 

This sounded like the end of the ordeal, and al- 
ready his Grace was making a movement to escape; 


98 


THE DUKE 


but the Minister was not to be so easily eluded. 
‘‘ At first your responsibilities will doubtless appear 
to you a trifle embarrassing/’ he continued, with an 
air of gravity happily blended with sympathy. 

“ I blush for them, sir! ” said his Grace, with a 
solemn shake of the head. 

‘‘ Ah, it is so with all of us who have inherited or 
who have attained to positions of — if I may say so 
— some eminence in our country. The higher we 
are placed, your Grace, the more we have to 
sustain.” 

“ Faith, it seems to me,” said his Grace, that the 
higher ye are the more ye need to sustain ye. Have 
ye had supper yet? ” 

Mr. Stock waved his hand reassuringly. I sup 
ofif the crumbs afterwards,” he explained, with that 
humour which made him so popular a speaker at all 
civic banquets. And thereupon he embarked on a 
discussion upon the far-reaching policy and search- 
ing domestic measures at present being undertaken 
by the Government of which he was so distinguished 
an ornament. 

‘‘ And what the devil’s been the matter? ” ex- 
claimed his bewildered Grace at the end of it all. 

‘‘ I beg your pardon? ” said the statesman in some 
astonishment. 


THE DUKE 


99 


“ I mean,” explained the Duke, “ what happened 
before your reforms, sir? ” 

“ I — I am afraid I fail to understand.” 

“ Things must be in a terrible bad state, bedad, 
to need all this seeing to.” 

This view of the question seemed to rather em- 
barrass the Cabinet Minister. 

“ That — ah — that is hardly the point, your Grace. 
We are pledged to our supporters, to the country, 
to the empire I may say.” 

“ I see, I see,” interrupted his Grace. “ Well, sir, 
ye can put me name down for the lot; what me an- 
cestors have promised. I’ll let you perform, be 
George! And there’s a very elegant lady smiling 
at me — it’s Lady Roulett, I’m thinking, so I’ll have 
to be ending this most entertaining discussion, sir.” 

And with that his Grace’s button-hole was off. 

“ A well disposed young man,” Mr. Stock ob- 
served of him afterwards, “ but his ideas are as yet 
a trifle rudimentary.” 

Meanwhile Lady Roulett, having at last secured 
an innings, was making the very best of the wicket. 
His Grace having first been fairly entangled in her 
smiles, was then presented to his relative, the Hon- 
ourable Nellie Flutter. Towards Miss Flutter the 
Duke Jack at once felt the same kindly emotion 
„ •» 

LtTC. 


lOO 


THE DUKE 


evoked by the Misses Stock — a cousinly sensation, 
no doubt. She was a bright and vivacious young 
lady, mistress already of the chatter of the season, 
and recommended to many by her aunt Georgiana’s 
outspoken disapproval and the insinuations of the 
strict. 

Be George, she^s got some devil in her,’’ his 
Grace reflected. In this matter his Grace’s ideas 
were less rudimentary. 

Just as his Grace was beginning to feel extremely 
at home in the society of these new-found relations, 
they were joined by the florid countenance and 
heavy moustache of Lord Roulett. His lordship 
was so genial and friendly, that the Duke’s previous 
conceptions of the haughtiness and exclusiveness of 
the English peerage entirely dissipated; while on his 
side Lord Roulett scented from the start a kindred 
spirit. 

They began to converse apart in a confidential 
manner. 

D d slow, isn’t it? ” said his Lordship. 

D d, begad!” assented his Grace, who 

thought it must, or at least ought to, be if such an 
experienced observer said so. 

Had supper? ” asked his Lordship. 

Devil a drop — I mean a bit,” replied his Grace. 


THE DUKE 


lOI 


“ Gettin’ dry? ” laughed his Lordship. 

“ Dry as a cistern! ” said his Grace, with feeling. 

“ No fun suppin’ here. Let’s come out,” sug- 
gested his Lordship. 

“ On the razzle, eh? ” asked his Grace, with a 
wink. 

For an instant his Lordship looked a trifle dis- 
concerted, though more at the phrase and the wink 
than the theory, it seemed. Then he smiled too. 

” As your Grace pleases,” he replied. 

They both laughed ; his Lordship took his Grace’s 
arm, and a couple of minutes later Lady Georgiana’s 
reception was shorn of its brightest ornament. 


CHAPTER XI 


A ND what was the secretary doing all this time? 

He was coming to a few general conclu- 
sions which were neither exhilarating nor very com- 
plimentary to society and himself. 

At first he was amused by the crowd and the 
glitter and the hubbub of voices, and in his heart 
he hugged the notion that he was a prince in dis- 
guise, and that somehow or other all these folk must 
feel that there was something more in this stranger 
than the shirt-front and white waistcoat which met 
the eye. Then it was borne in upon him that what- 
ever they felt they certainly took uncommonly little 
notice of his Highness, and that he was, moreover, 
in everybody's way. Move as he liked, stand where 
he pleased, there always seemed to be an elbow in 
his back and the tail of a train beneath his feet. And 
they were the elbows and trains of strangers, who, 
he began to discover from their talk, thought differ- 
ent thoughts and looked upon things in different 
lights from himself. At least it seemed to him as 


102 


THE DUKE 


103 


if he were jostling through the people of another 
star. 

Except his hostess and her daughters he had 
never consciously seen one of them before, and those 
ladies took no more notice of them than the others. 

He had never realised that such a thing would 
happen, and there began to rise in him a feeling of 
sharp antagonism to this they called Society. 

Poor Duke of Grandon! He began for a little 
to repent of his mad plot. 

Now and then he had glimpses of his imperson- 
ator bowing and smiling and talking in a circle of 
animated faces. 

'' One only needs the label, ’’ he thought. 

It was while he was leaning against an unoccupied 
foot or two of wall, with his arms folded tightly to 
keep them out of people’s way, and upon his face 
a look he had seldom worn before in his open-air, 
adventurous life, that a lady noticed him. Her face 
was engaging and clever, though no longer quite 
young, her costume beyond criticism, and her air 
entirely that of the world. She looked round her, 
spied Miss Julia Stock, and touched her arm. 

Do tell me, Julia,” she asked, who is that 
young man? He reminds me so of somebody, and 
I can’t think who it is.” 


104 


THE DUKE 


“ Which young man? I see a hundred.” 

“ The hundred and first for me at present. I am 
fascinated with him. Look, just opposite, with his 
arms crossed.” 

“ That? ” said Miss Julia, with an intonation there 
was no mistaking. “ Oh, that’s the Duke of Gran- 
don’s secretary — I think he calls himself that. His 
name is Kavanagh, or something.” 

“ How extremely interesting! I should like to 
hear the secretary’s account of his Duke. Intro- 
duce him to me.” 

Julia hesitated. 

“ Do you really want me to? ” 

“ Of course. Why not? ” 

“ I’m afraid he isn’t quite ” 

“ My dear, I am grown up! Nowadays I rather 
prefer people who are not quite ” 

The lady paused and laughed. 

“ Well, if you really want me to,” said Julia, leav- 
ing her side and forging her way towards the 
secretary. 

Lambert obeyed the summons with considerable 
surprise. Had these people really some heart in 
them after all? 

“ Mr. Kavanagh — Mrs. Louvaine,” said Julia, 
and as quickly as she could fled from the person’s 
presence. 


THE DUKE 


105 


Mrs. Louvaine made a few desultory remarks, to 
which the secretary replied in a random way, she 
thought, and yet in an oflfhand, pleasant tone that 
she liked for a certain freshness it possessed. The 
reminiscent look had vanished, and she was puzzled 
even to recall it. 

She suggested a seat; they pushed their way up a 
stair, and at last by a miracle of chance found two 
chairs. 

“ Now,” she said, “ we can watch the animals and 
talk scandal.” 

“ I’m afraid,” replied the secretary, “ I don’t 
know enough about ’em.” 

“ This is your first appearance in society? ” 

“ And, I’m inclined to pray, my last.” 

Mrs. Louvaine laughed. 

“ Don’t talk nonsense! You don’t know people 
yet, and you were looking horribly bored. They 
are really quite harmless, and a few of them are even 
amusing. I am sure the Duke finds them so.” 

“ If I were a duke, perhaps it might be different,” 
said the secretary, and again for a second Mrs. 
Louvaine caught the expression she seemed to 
know. 

“ Now you are cynical,” she answered. “ Please 
don’t be; it’s really so easy; and after all it is paying 


THE DUKE 


io6 

society the compliment of taking it seriously. If 
you do that, you will never enjoy it.” 

How should I take it, then? ” 

‘‘ Like a glass of wine. You taste it while you 
are drinking, but you don’t think about it after- 
wards, do you? You would never dream of feeling 
cynically towards light refreshments, and why tow- 
ards society? ” 

The secretary laughed. 

Can’t one even criticise? ” he asked. 

Certainly, just as you criticise your wine. If it’s 
cheap and nasty, you say so, and if it isn’t, you hold 
it up to the light, and — may I say? — sniff it. Like 
this — don’t you? ” 

She went through the wine-taster’s gestures so 
happily that Lambert laughed again. 

Well,” she said, ‘‘ that’s the way to treat tfiese 
people here; remember they were never intended to 
make a solid luncheon off. I’m afraid a lot of 
people try to, but it’s quite a mistake, believe me.” 
Lambert reflected for a minute. 

‘‘ The trouble is,” he answered, “ that one has to 
get into the swing of the thing to understand it.” 

‘‘ And why shouldn’t you? ” 

‘‘ I’m afraid I have lived too long out of it.” 

Mrs. Louvaine laughed cheerfully. 


THE DUKE 


107 


“ You talk as though you were an old fogey of — 
well, say of my age. You can pick up the chatter 
in three days.” 

“ And the polish and all that? ” 

“ If I thought you were fishing for a pretty 
speech,” she replied, “ I should snub you — especially 
as you took no notice of my opening just now; but 
as I don’t think you are, I may tell you that you are 
highly presentable already. Anybody who really 
knows can see that you have the — what shall I say? 
— the well-born manner. In a week you could 
change places with the Duke, and play the part as 
well as he. I’m sure.” 

Lambert glanced at her sharply, so sharply and 
curiously that she might have wondered if she had 
noticed the look; but she seemed to be thinking of 
something else. 

“ Tell me about him,” she said abruptly. “ I am 
puzzled — and I’m afraid a little disappointed.” 

“ About whom? ” 

“ This new Duke of Grandon.” 

“ What do you want to know? ” 

“To begin with, how he got an Irish accent and 
why he isn’t more like his father,” she said, half- 
laughing, and yet evidently quite seriously. 

“ His father? ” 


I08 


THE DUKE 


“Yes; how old do you think I am? Forty, per- 
haps? Well, I sha’n’t tell you how much more than 
that. I knew his father, you see.” 

“ What, old Ka ? ” the secretary began, and 

then stopped with a little gasp. 

“ Old who? ” 

“ I mean ” 

“ I mean Walter Haselle,” she said, looking very 
straight at him. “ Has he never told you of his 
father? ” 

“ N — no,” stammered the secretary before he 
quite realised what he was saying. 

Mrs. Louvaine gave him one little curious glance, 
and then went on — 

“ You never, then, heard anything tO' — to his dis- 
advantage? ” 

“ I never inquired,” replied Lambert, beginning 
to recover his wits a little. 

“ You may possibly hear a story about him.” 

“ Fd rather not,” said Lambert quickly. 

Mrs. Louvaine looked at him with an expression 
of interest that made him uneasy, but all she said 
was — 

“ You are quite right. Why rake among the 
ashes? ” She stopped, and then she added, “ But 
if you should ever hear a false story, you may come 
to me for the true.” 


THE DUKE 


109 


“ Thanks,” he replied; almost curtly it seemed to 
her. 

“ The Duke bears not the faintest resemblance to 
his father,” she said in a minute. 

“ Doesn’t he? ” 

“ Not the slightest. I should even call him com- 
monplace-looking.” 

“ Then,” asked Lambert, “ then was his father — 
handsome? ” 

“ He was like all the Haselles.” 

Lambert still caught the look that made him ill 
at ease. 

“ Would you like some supper? ” he asked 
abruptly. 

“ No, thanks,” she answered, rising, “ I must go 
on to another crush — to drink a second glass of 
society.” 

She laughed, and her manner became light and 
animated as before. 

“ Will you come and see me? ” she asked as they 
parted. 

“ I shall be delighted.” 

“ Come on Friday — will you? ” 

“ Thank you.” 

“ For certain? ” 

“ For certain,” he answered, smiling. 


no 


THE DUKE 


‘‘ I shall expect to find you as polished — as the 
Duke,” she laughed. ‘‘ Goodbye.” 

She was gone, and Lambert drifted once more 
through the cataract of strangers. 

Yet he felt a touch of self-esteem; there was some 
one actually interested in the secretary for his own 
sake. But the boredom quickly returned, and in 
a little he made his way downstairs, extracted his 
hat and coat, and found himself once again on the 
London pavements under the London stars. 

‘‘ His Grace seems quite capable of looking after 
himself,” he thought, ‘‘ and if I know him at all, he 
won’t worry much about me.” 

In which reflection he was entirely correct. 


CHAPTER XII 


“ TTEIGHO!” said the secretary to himself, 

* * “ what a rum show that was! It was dull 

enough talking to nobody, but supposing I’d had to 
talk to every one? Thank the Lord I’m only the 
secretary! What an exhibition of myself I might 
be making! ” 

He was striding along Piccadilly, his good- 
humour quite restored. It was so far after mid- 
night that the long curve of the pavement, with its 
dip and the slope beyond, was but sparsely dotted 
with late walkers and the straggling waifs of the 
night. The moon was up, the trees in the Green 
Park were all in leaf, and the roadway still jingled 
cheerfully with cabs. It all felt very exhilarating to 
Lambert after the mob and the heat at Lady 
Georgiana’s. 

“I wish his Grace joy of his admirers!” he 
thought. “ Give me a room big enough to move 
in and the sky for a roof.” 


Ill 


II2 


THE DUKE 


And so he smoked his pipe contentedly and 
hummed a tune as he swung along. 

He let himself into Grandon House with his latch- 
key and went to the smoking-room. Everything 
was silent and solemn; the retinue of servants had 
gone to bed and most of the lights were turned low. 
It reminded Lambert of his first entrance, only now 
the spectral air had gone and the atmosphere of the 
town returned. 

The smoking-room was large and a little gaunt, 
but already there hung about it a friendly odour of 
tobacco, and the chairs were made for comfort. He 
turned up the lights, and then threw himself down 
on a sofa to smoke for a while till the Duke Jack 
returned. 

As he lay there his thoughts went back to Mrs. 
Louvaine. 

‘‘ A good sort,’’ he reflected. ‘‘ I think she really 
means to be friendly.” 

Then the thoughts took a more painful turn. 

‘‘ My father — I wonder what she knows of him. 
(By the way, I must warn Jack to be careful.) She 
looked oddly at me. Can she ? She can’t sus- 

pect. And so she knew my father.” 

The secretary’s face clouded; then gradually the 
clouds passed away and the eyes closed and Mrs. 


THE DUKE 


II3 

Louvaine and the Duke Jack and all the people and 
things of the evening began to mingle and behave 
in the most inconsequent fashion. 

The secretary was young and healthy, and he had, 
in fact, fallen asleep. 

Sleeping on a sofa lends itself to dreams, and Lam- 
bert had rambled for hours through the most re- 
markable places and in the most improbable com- 
pany, when his adventures began to take the form 
of a doleful sound. Presently this resolved itself 
into words and something that faintly resembled a 
tune, and then in a moment he opened his eyes. 

First he saw that the gas was burning very pale 
in an odd, clear light, then that the day had broken 
and the sun was struggling through the blinds, and 
finally that his Grace, the reputed Duke of Grandon, 
had returned. With a slow, unsteady motion, that 
peer was laboriously endeavouring to pour the 
proper depth of whisky into a shaking tumbler. 
The decanter would clink against the side, after a 
prolonged tilting a little spirit would flow out, and 
thereupon his Grace would hold it up to the light 
in various positions, sharpening his observation by 
tightly closing first one eye and then the other. All 
the time he chanted in a subdued voice that dolorous 
refrain — 


THE DUKE 


II4 

“ They^re hanging men and women there 
For wearing of the green ” 

over and over again, as though those lines summed 
up the entire sentiment of the hour. His opera hat 
was rakishly cocked on one side, and his top-coat 
being unbuttoned, Lambert could see that his shirt- 
front had become decidedly the worse for wear since 
he delighted the guests at Lady Georgiana Stock’s. 

“ They’re hanging men and women there 
For wearing of the green, 

They’re hanging men and women there 
For wearing of the green,” 

sung the Duke. 

“ They’re hanging ” 

But at this point his eyes fell upon his secretary. 

‘‘ Hullo Lambert, ol’ boy ! ” he cried, with the 
delight of a reveller at spying a recipient for his con- 
fidences, ^‘you sleepin’ here? Dishgraceful ! Ha, 
ha, ha!’’ 

His Grace shook with laughter for a minute, and 
then becoming aware of the fact that half his care- 
fully-measured draught had visited his trousers in 
the course of his mirth, he as suddenly assumed an 
expression of the strictest bibulous austerity. 


THE DUKE 1 1 5 

“ Extraordinary shircumstance,” he murmured, 
surveying the rivulet in grieved surprise. 

“ Where have you been? ” said Lambert. 

His Grace winked a wicked, leery wink. 

“ Sheeing life, me boy,” he chuckled. “ ’Tish im- 
poshible for a man in me position to shee life in th’ 
middle of th’ day. You undershtand? Eh? ” 

Again his Grace winked, this time a knowing, 
worldly wink. With an abrupt movement and a 
considerable splash he swashed the contents of a 
water-bottle into his glass, and with another he 
flopped into a chair. 

“ Who have you been with? ” asked Lambert. 

“ The besht comp’ny in London, Lambert. At 
leasht, I started with ’em — afterwards there were 
othersh — fair comp’ny. Shee? Fair comp’ny. 
Ha, ha, ha! Undershtand? Fair — two mean- 
ingsh. Ha, ha, ha! ” 

“ And who do you call the best? ” 

His Grace assumed an expression of as much dig- 
nity as the angle of his hat and the state of his shirt- 
front permitted. 

“ There wash Lord Roulett — best chap in th’ 
world, Lambert! Best chap bar none, sir! No 
airsh, no nonshense, no anyshing; just a fine English 
girrieman, sir, a nobleman I’m proud to call me 


ii6 


THE DUKE 


friend. He wouldn’t care who I wash — duke or 
Jack Kavanagh or anyshing; Roulett would alwaysh 
remain th’ shame. Best chap in th’ world, Lam- 
bert! You’re another ol’ man! Here’s your 
d d good healsh! ” 

If the secretary had any difference of opinion as 
to the constancy of Lord Roulett’s attachment in 
every contingency, he kept it to himself. 

‘‘ Any more of the peerage seeing life with you? ” 
he asked. 

Again his friend’s face assumed its air of highly 
complacent dignity. 

'' Lord Shtagger — know him? Musht introduce 
you. Dashed good chap. We call him Crishy. 
Lord Crysanthemus Stagger — yesh, that’s hish 
right name. Musht be particular about titlsh, don’t 
you know. Don’t you know! Ha, ha! C’rect 
thing to shay, ‘ Don’t you know! ’ often as possible 
— learned that to-night — hall-mark of fine English 
girrlemen. Don’t you know! H’ve I made it 
perf’ctly clear? ” 

“ Perfectly,” said Lambert. Let’s hear your 
adventures.” 

Adventursh? What price? Ha, ha, ha! What 
was I shaying? Crishy was there, yesh; and more 
good chaps, two more — or three? Two — three — 


THE DUKE 


II7 

which wash it? — I f’rget — doeshn’t matter. There 
was Captain Jonesh and Teddy Lumme — and 
Crishy — and Roulett — and Teddy Lumme — and 
Jonesh — shaid him before, though. How many’s 

that? Doeshn’t matter. Here’s your d d good 

health, ol’ man.” 

This time his Grace, having drained his glass, 
showed symptoms of stopping his narrative to re- 
fill. 

“Steady! You’ve had enough. Jack,’’ said his 
secretary, in that tone of humouring authority 
which one uses to the irresponsible. 

The voice and the familiar name seemed for a 
moment to come as a sobering shock to his Grace. 

“Eh? What d’ye mean?” he asked, the tum- 
bler still stretched irresolutely towards the de- 
canter. 

“ You’ve had enough already. Go on with the 
adventures. Where did you go with Roulett and 
Crissy and the rest of them? ” 

“ Had enough ! D n it, Lambert ” his 

Grace began. 

“ Needn’t get rusty,” interrupted his secretary. 
“ Have your drink when you’re through. I want 
to hear how you saw life.” 

The humorous recollections of the evening re- 


Il8 THE DUKE 

turned to his Grace’s unsteady head, and the irrita- 
tion subsided into a knowing chuckle. 

“ Saw life, Lambert? Yes, we saw life, begad! ” 
he said, with his utterance wonderfully cleared by 
the interlude. “ Cards, sir, for two hours at 
me friend Roulett’s club; swagger club, Lambert. 
Roulett’s putting me up. Good chap, Roulett.” 

“ Where you lost? ” 

“A trifle, Lambert; a trifle for a jook. I paid 
like a girrleman, sir, like a girrleman ! ” 

His Grace’s voice thickened again as he recount- 
ed this act of apparently unusual virtue. 

“ Then we had a bit of shupper, being devilish 
dry be that time, Lambert — shupper at the club — 
wash it th’ club, or washn’t it? Never mind; 
doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter, ol’ man, doesn’t 
matter.” 

He shook his head mournfully at this repetition, 
and his air became sad and thoughtful. 

“ I’m talking too much,” he said solemnly. 
“ Time to go to bed.” 

He rose and looked affectionately at his secre- 
tary. 

“Have another drink, ol’ man?” 

“ No, thanks.” 

“ Sure?” 


THE DUKE 


1 19 


“ Quite.” 

“ I’ll keep you company if that’s what you’re 
’fraid of. Quite sure? Very well.” 

In the doorway he paused again. 

“ Tell me, ol’ chap,” he demanded anxiously, “ as 
a frien’, quite candid, would you notice I’d had just 
a liir drop, just a tiddlely too mush? ” 

“ I should,” said Lambert. 

“ That’s a pity,” sighed his Grace. “ Jooks can’t 
be too p’rtic’lar.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


OIR PURSUIVANT DEBRETTE felt like a 
^ man trying to play a salmon on a bent pin. 
Accustomed as he was to most of the contingencies 
about town, he was fain to confess that a duke with 
a brogue in his tastes as well as in his tongue fell 
fairly outside his experience. Matters of business 
his Grace treated in an offhand fashion which abso- 
lutely dismayed the Baronet. That a young peer 
should sow his wild oats promiscuously seemed 
natural and even laudable enough, but, hang it, 
playing pigs and whistles with the Grandon estates 
was carrying things a little too far. His Grace evi- 
dently regarded these historic possessions simply ' 
as so many sacks of sovereigns into which he could | 
plunge his hand whenever he pleased. He did not | 
seem to care where they were or what they con- j 
sisted of. It is true he made airy and frequent ; 
references to ‘‘ me country places '' or ‘‘ me ances- I 
tral halls,’’ but apart from these allusions he might | 
for all the world have been an African millionaire J 
returned from his mines. Everything was referred | 


120 


THE DUKE 


I2I 


to “ me secretary,” and this Sir Pursuivant liked 
least of all. 

“ As if I was goin’ to give an account of things 
to a dashed squatter,” he said to himself. And so 
he held his tongue on the subject of business, and 
endeavoured instead to guide his Grace in his 
pleasures. 

But here, too. Sir Pursuivant began to find 
the pace too headlong for his stride. Lord Roulett 
and his friends set it, and hardly had his Grace 
started before even they discovered that it would 
take them all their time to keep up. 

“ Talk about showin’ him the way ! ” groaned 
the Baronet after the first night in his patron’s 
company, “ it’s like tryin’ to steer a runaway horse. 
Pd be dead in a week of this, confound it ! ” 

Once he even condescended to express his 
qualms to the secretary, but that young man ap- 
parently failed altogether to grasp the Baronet’s 
theory of the refinements in oat-sowing expected 
of a duke. 

“ Can’t make ’em out, either of ’em,” thought 
Sir Pursuivant; “ Grandon’s a little rough, but he 
seems a sportin’ enough beggar in all conscience, 
and he’d polish up all right in time if he’d keep in 
a decent set. Don’t fancy that Roulett lot, though. 


122 


THE DUKE 


The worst of the Duke is, he goes on as if he were 
foolin’ against time. He’s a long life before him, 
hang it! As for Kavanagh, he beats me; there’s 
somethin’ queer about him. I don’t like it. What’s 
Grandon want with a secretary? He never writes 
a line.” 

In his perplexity he bethought him of the one 
woman. People would have been much astonished 
to learn that for Sir Pursuivant Debrette there was 
a one woman, and certainly the Baronet would 
never have admitted it. He only confessed it to 
himself at long intervals, and then with a rebuking 
sense of being a fool, for as his late friend said, 
Pursie had as little nonsense about him as any man 
in the universe. George Louvaine had been a 
cousin, and his wife, almost alone of women, had 
tried to make a friend of Sir Pursuivant. What is 
more remarkable, she had at last succeeded. When 
she was left a widow, only Laura Louvaine herself 
knew how he had repaid her trouble. Even the 
Duke had been deserted for a while that he might 
settle her entangled money matters; his face had 
come within a wrinkle of expressing sympathy; his 
conduct had led his servant to darkly suspect an 
affair. Since then, with the instinct of a migrating 
bird, he had come at long intervals to her flat; for 


THE DUKE 


123 

the spell some women leave is like that of a far- 
away country. 

So upon an afternoon when Mrs. Louvaine had 
denied herself to the world Sir Pursuivant’s name 
was announced. It was still early; she glanced at 
her watch and decided to see him. Whatever her 
engagement, a spontaneous call from the Baronet 
was a compliment she knew how to value. 

He was much less like a ramrod in her drawing- 
room than in any other, and he opened his mind 
with few preliminaries. 

“ Gad ! Laura, what the deuce am I to do? ” 
said he. “ If it wasn’t that I’d promised Frank to 
see to the new man. I’d chuck the whole thing. 
Grandon doesn’t understand, hang it; I can’t make 
him understand.” 

“ Understand what? ” 

“ How to — er — behave himself and that sort of 
thing.” 

“ Or to misbehave himself? ” Mrs. Louvaine 
suggested, with a smile. 

“ No more he does,” said Sir Pursuivant seri- 
ously. 

“ You must remember, Pursie, that the toys are 
new. When he gets used to them, don’t you think 
he will — understand? ” 


124 


THE DUKE 


'' If he’d listen to me, d n it ! Beg your 

pardon, Laura, but, hang it, it’s hard to talk 
quietly. Imagine the Duke of Grandon singin’ 
‘ What ho ! she bumps ! ’ down Piccadilly, and rot- 
tin’ the policeman. He might be a medical student 
out on the spree. He walks into the bars and 
orders drinks like a ” 

‘‘ An ordinary man,” suggested Mrs. Louvaine. 

Not like a gentleman, anyhow,” answered the 
Baronet shortly. 

It’s a terrible problem,” said Mrs. Louvaine 
softly, with a wary glance at her guest. 

On his part he was musing gloomily. Suddenly 
he broke out — 

‘‘ Can’t stand that man Kavanagh.” 

‘‘Can’t you?” asked Mrs. Louvaine quickly. 
“ Why not? ” 

“ What’s he want hangin’ round the Duke and 
doin’ nothing? ” 

“ Isn’t he his secretary? ” 

“ Never writes a line. There’s somethin’ queer 
underneath.” 

“ There’s certainly something — unusual about 
Mr. Kavanagh.” 

“ You know him? ” asked Sir Pursuivant, rais- 
ing his brows with as much expression as you ever 
saw in his face. 


THE DUKE 


125 


“ I met him at Lady Georgiana’s,” she replied 
carelessly. “ Does he — does he remind you of 
any one? ” 

Sir Pursuivant thought for a moment. 

“ Now that you ask me — seem to have noticed 
somethin’. Who is it? ” 

“ I wondered too,” she replied. 

As if enough had been said on the subject, Sir 
Pursuivant abruptly changed it. They talked for a 
little of other things, his eyes looking at her con- 
stantly whenever she turned hers away. Then, as 
if rousing himself from a reverie, he rose, bade her 
an adieu that was offhand in form, and stalked out 
of the room. 

He had hardly gone fifty yards from the door 
when he spied none other than the secretary him- 
self. They nodded casually as they passed, but the 
Baronet had never looked round after a man in his 
life, and seldom after a woman, and so it was that 
he saw nothing of a circumstance that would have 
considerably surprised him. For the secretary 
stopped at the very house he had left. 

“ And so you have called after all? ” said Mrs. 
Louvaine, with her brightest smile. 

“ After all? ” asked Lambert. 

“ Yes, I quite expected you’d have become such 


126 


THE DUKE 


a society man by this time that your numerous 
engagements would begin to trip one another up.” 

Lambert laughed. 

“ No fears,” he said cheerfully. “ It’s the Duke 
of Grandon they all want — not me.” 

“ And what do you do with yourself, then? ” 

“ There’s a lot to be seen one way and another 
in London. I follow his Grace and watch the peo- 
ple for a while, and then I explore on my own ac- 
count. You see it is a long time since I was last 
in England.” 

“ Some years, I suppose.” 

“ Not since I was sixteen, and then I didn’t stay 
here long.” 

“ Then you don’t know England well? ” 

“ Very little, and I find the size of things has 
changed since I last saw them.” 

Lambert was talking in a frank, particularly 
natural way he had when he felt himself with 
friends, for Mrs. Louvaine had charmed him at 
once into friendship. She smiled and watched him 
with a pleasure that was heightened by memory, 
and with a glowing curiosity, too. 

“ How singular,” she said. “ That is exactly the 
Duke’s experience, isn’t it? ” 

With a start Lambert recollected himself; he had 


THE DUKE 


127 


clean forgotten that he was now Jack Kavanagh. 
His words suddenly became indefinitely guarded, 
and Mrs. Louvaine noticed the change. He sat 
there with the ease and the air of a man to whom 
these gifts came as an inheritance — a young Eng- 
lishman with a certain exotic piquancy; yet she 
somehow felt sure a fact, or perhaps a romance, 
lay concealed beneath that peculiarly unstudied 
manner. She was an expert in men; young men in 
particular were to her as an open book, but here 
sat one whose very boards she felt were covered 
up, and whose leaves slipped so fast through her 
fingers that she had hardly time to read a sentence. 

Mrs. Louvaine felt piqued; when she paid a man 
the compliment of being interested in him, the least 
he could do in return was to turn out the contents 
of his mind for her inspection. She had been the 
confidante of dozens, and she prided herself on the 
fact that none of them had ever said they repented 
of it. (It would be unkind to suggest that when 
repentance begins confidences possibly stop.) 

After a little she said suddenly — 

“ Do you know how you first caught my eye? ” 

“ By the size of my shoes or the cut of my coat, 
I suppose.” 

“ Would you really entrap me, Mr. Kavanagh, 


128 


THE DUKE 


into a eulogy on your wardrobe? No; you remind- 
ed me of some one, and I couldn’t think who it was. 
It is only one expression you’ve got, and it just 
comes now and then — when you air that little vein 
of cynicism you keep for society.” 

I was bored and hungry, and looked both, I 
expect,” said Lambert. “ I’m afraid the man I 
reminded you of can’t be a beauty.” 

On the contrary, many people considered him 
handsome.” 

Who was it? ” 

‘‘ I couldn’t think at first. The expression went 
away.” 

I ceased to feel bored,” said Lambert gallantly. 

That’s much better ! ” cried Mrs. Louvaine. 

You are really beginning to talk very well. But 
I may tell you that the expression did return, and 
then I remembered.” 

And who was this man? ” 

No less a person than the late Duke of Gran- 
don.” 

Mrs. Louvaine was on the watch for anything 
that might happen and she saw that something in 
the notion struck Lambert sharply. But all he 
said was — 


“ I ought to feel flattered.” 


THE DUKE 


129 


“ You reminded me of some one else,” said Mrs. 
Louvaine. 

“ Another duke? ” 

“ No, not a duke.” 

“Who?” 

“ It was no one you ever knew — and after all 
these fanciful resemblances are rather absurd, aren’t 
they? ” 

Mrs. Louvaine laughed naturally, but there was a 
look of expectation in her eyes as if she wanted her 
guest to question her further. 

A strong suspicion crossed Lambert’s mind; he 
hesitated, and then he shrunk back. He might 
find himself on perilous ground; certainly on un- 
comfortable. 

“ They are amusing at least,” he replied. “ I 
shall hold my head higher now.” 

And then he rose to go. 

After he was away, Mrs. Louvaine sat alone for 
a long while, wondering and puzzling for a key to 
fit him. All of a sudden she jumped up with her 
eyes bright and very astonished at her own thought, 
and she laughed softly to herself. 


I 


CHAPTER XIV 

I CANNOT say whether Grandon House, that 
* hostelry where each duke in his generation 
had put up and where his honoured guests had 
come of nights, resented the visit of the impostor, 
but certainly society showed no sign of an objec- 
tion. Possibly an observant piece of oak or ma- 
hogany sees further through the form that presses 
it than the eyes of human upholstery, but then the 
house was perforce silent, and his Grace moved 
through its rooms with an assurance that grew 
daily stronger. Who should suspect that there 
was anything amiss? His exceptional career was 
quite enough to account for any aberrations from 
the customary ways of dukes. In fact, his peculi- 
arities became the fashion in a certain set. You 
might hear the most irreproachable young bloods 
endeavouring to speak with an Irish accent, and a 
certain eighteenth-century riotousness was quite 
the thing in the most exclusive circles. On his 
side, his Grace rapidly assimilated the prejudices 
130 


THE DUKE 


I3I 

and traditions of his class; he looked at life through 
the most aristocratic spectacles (or perhaps I should 
say eye-glass) — even Sir Pursuivant had to admit 
as much; he differentiated quickly between the 
people to be seen in company with and the people 
less desirable from a spectacular point of view, and 
he expressed the most heartfelt contempt for much 
that the uninitiated would have considered perfect- 
ly respectable. 

Towards men he had a hail-fellow-well-met air, 
combined with a certain amount of wheedling 
blarney that had become by this time too old a 
friend to desert him. The mixture, coming from a 
duke, made, as one can imagine, an enormous and 
affectionate acquaintance in a remarkably short 
space of time. Nobody could suspect a peer of 
such an assured and exalted position of slapping 
him on the back and tickling his vanity unless the 
said peer had really taken a violent fancy to him. 
Such an one had nothing to gain by pandering to 
those that were not dukes, and accordingly his 
Grace was fast achieving the most unprecedented 
popularity. 

It was with Lord Roulett and his coterie, how- 
ever, that the Duke became on the most affection- 
ate and intimate terms, and while his purse in- 


132 


THE DUKE 


creased their incomes, his presence added materially 
to their gaiety. Whether middle-aged, like his 
Lordship himself, or young, like Lord Crysanthe- 
mus Stagger and Teddy Lumme, they had all be- 
come infected with a blase and almost decadent 
spirit. But his Grace, whatever his faults, was 
neither decadent nor blase, and he woke them up 
like a bugle. Lord Crysanthemus assisted in the 
driving of a hansom cab at top speed past the 
policemen guarding the park gates, and it was 
Lord Roulett himself who hurled the first decanter 
through the windows of their respectable club. 

The very foundations of society were being 
stirred. 

With women he became, if possible, an even 
greater favourite than with men. It is true that 
there were a few of both sexes who had the origi- 
nality to demur to the accepted opinions regarding 
his Grace, but their voices were scarcely audible 
amid the chorus of approval. Those little lapses 
from the conventions which dictate what is and 
what is not good form ’’ are much harder to dis- 
cern when the offender is of the opposite sex. The 
blindness of women towards men and men towards 
women is often amazing to the fellow-men or fel- 
low-women of the stumbler, and in this case the 


THE DUKE 


133 


criticisms on his Grace were to be heard oftener 
in the clubs than in the drawing-rooms. But there 
was almost always added a tolerant postscript; and 
then, before long, the Duke’s eccentricities had be- 
come so much the fashion that men’s standards 
shifted. 

Lady Georgiana Stock was not long in perceiv- 
ing the favourable impression produced by her 
young kinsman upon the ladies, and it further be- 
came as quickly evident that he was only too ready 
to take advantage of it. In fact, the Duke was a 
shameless flirt, and made no effort whatever to con- 
ceal his weakness. This, combined with his par- 
tiality for those terrible Roulett people, would have 
almost made her despair were it not that her 
mother’s eye began to see signs that his Grace was 
disposed to at least flirt harder with Julia than with 
most girls. He came and went about the house as 
his inconstant fancy pleased, and if Lady Georgiana 
could not prevent him from going to her sister’s 
mansion at night, she managed to make her own a 
hospital for his morning-after headaches. 

It is small wonder that the adventurer should 
begin to take himself seriously. There was noth- 
ing to remind him of the past, nothing to suggest 
that he was not really that orchid of the peerage 


134 


THE DUKE 


so cherished by society, nothing to recall the events 
of that first evening in Grandon House, no link 
with the old Jack Kavanagh; always excepting the 
rare moments when some word or tone of his sec- 
retary’s marred for an instant the illusion. And 
as the days went by his Grace liked less and less 
these transitory reminders. He began to consider 
himself ill-used that Lambert should intrude his 
presence at all. The benefactor he had thanked 
and flattered so warmly but a week or two ago be- 
came as a millstone round his neck. He had the 
unkindness to warn his Grace that he must keep at 
least tolerably sober, he asked questions now and 
then or made suggestions, he dropped hints about 
limits to the scale of expenditure. And then the 
Duke was something like the man of whom Willis 
tells that ‘‘ he was the mirror of courtesy. He was 
also the mirror of vulgarity. And he was the 
mirror of everything else.” By every one else his 
secretary was treated as a negligable quantity, and 
even if he had tried his best he could not have 
helped treating him as a negligable quantity too. 
In the course of a week he had learned to adopt 
the attitude of society towards that independent 
and unconventional colonial. 

Damned if I’d stand the beggar’s coolness,” 


THE DUKE 


135 


said Lord Crysanthemus, and his Grace (who had 
begun by lauding Lambert's virtues to the skies) 
agreed that he was damned if he would either much 
longer. 

Fve spoken to him, me dear boy, a dozen 
times,’’ he declared, and, be George, I’ll have to 
sack him if he doesn’t look out ! ” 

In a hundred ways he felt that Lambert was 
treating him badly; he lounged about the house as 
though the place actually belonged to him; he went 
with his Grace as a matter of course to entertain- 
ments where he was neither asked nor wanted, or 
stayed away when he was asked, just as he pleased; 
he treated people with an ofifhand friendliness or a 
cool indifference that made his Grace absolutely 
blush for him. In a word, he was offensively out 
of place, and what made it worse was that the 
Duke felt less and less inclined to admit to him- 
self that this secretary had the power of treating 
him ill. 

As for Lambert himself, a strong resentment was 
mingling more and more with his amusement at 
this topsy-turvydom. It was absurd that he should 
feel annoyed because people took him for what he 
pretended to be; but it was human enough. His 
very manner to the people he met, his casual, pipe- 


13 ^ 


THE DUKE 

smoking habits about the ducal mansion, were an 
exaggeration, a defiance. Mrs. Louvaine, who al- 
most alone had seen him friendly, and, as she 
thought, charming, puzzled and wondered to watch 
him with others. 

And all the time the shrewd eyes of Sir Pursui- 
vant were furtively following him, and his set con- 
viction deepening. He alone did not consider 
the Duke of Grandon’s secretary a quantity that 
could be neglected. 

The world in general had almost ceased to take 
any note of Lambert, when one afternoon it was 
startled into looking at him again. He had just 
come back to Grandon House from an unsuccessful 
call at Mrs. Louvaine’s, his temper was a trifle ruf- 
fled at that lady's forgetfulness, for she had said 
she would be at home, and when he entered the 
drawing-room and found the Duke in the midst of 
callers, his manner froze at the threshold of the 
door. Lady Georgiana and her husband, Lady 
Roulett, Sir Pursuivant, and Mrs. Louvaine he saw 
were there. Mrs. Louvaine alone turned to him 
with a smile. 

‘‘ Pm so sorry," she began. I quite forgot I 
had promised " 

She stopped, for the secretary was paying her no 


THE DUKE 


137 


attention. His eyes were fixed upon the group 
round the Duke, and his Grace met them with an 
evidently uncomfortable glance. 

“ Then it is all arranged, your Grace,” Mr. Stock 
was saying. “ We can count upon you for a speech 
— say of half an hour.” 

His Grace hesitated and glanced again at Lam- 
bert. 

” Er — certainly,” he replied. 

“A speech — where?” asked Lambert uncere- 
moniously. 

There was a moment’s pause and stare, and then 
the Cabinet Minister, who had learned the policy of 
being civil to secretaries, replied — 

“ The Duke is going to address a meeting of 
our political league, at my special request. He ex-, 
presses a little diffidence, but I am convinced he 
will make a most successful debut. What do you 
say, Mr. Kavanagh? ” 

“ He’ll make a fool of himself,” said Lambert 
bluntly. “ He had better think it over.” 

To say that his audience were astonished would 
be to give an exceedingly mild description of their 
sentiments. For a minute nobody answered, and 
then Mr. Stock replied with such an air of rebuke 
as he felt was certainly called for — 


THE DUKE 


138 

I think, Mr. Kavanagh, that his Grace is prob- 
ably a better judge of that than his secretary.” 

‘‘ What does his Grace say? ” said Lambert, turn- 
ing to the unfortunate Duke and looking very 
straight at him. 

‘‘ I — ril think it over,” stammered the Duke. 
‘‘ ril let ye know to-morrow.” 

Again there was a pause, and as he saw the ex- 
pression on each face, the humour of it all struck 
Lambert so sharply and suddenly that from acting 
Oliver Cromwell he nearly came to laughing out- 
right. He felt that perhaps some explanation was 
called for. 

His Grace doesn’t know much about politics 
as yet,” he observed. ‘‘ He’d better wait a bit.” 

This way of treating a duke apparently plunged 
everybody into still direr consternation. Lambert 
could stand their gaze no longer, so without further 
remark he turned abruptly and walked out of the 
room again. 

‘‘ Surely, your Grace,” said the Cabinet Minister, 
as soon as he had recovered his breath, surely this 
— er — this gentleman’s opinion will not modify 
your plans? ” 

Well, ye see, me dear sir,” explained his Grace, 
whose wits were beginning to return, though his 


THE DUKE 


139 


face was still very red, “ Kavanagh is an uncom- 
monly sensible fellow; I’ve a great idea of his opin- 
ion. We’ll talk it over, d’ye see, and I’ll write and 
let ye know.” 

The opinion of the world concerning the Duke’s 
secretary underwent a most marked transforma- 
tion. 


CHAPTER XV 


'T^HE next day the Duke and Sir Pursuivant 
^ went off racing. His Grace felt himself a 
thoroughly ill-used man. ‘‘ Insulted be me own 
secretary/’ he reflected bitterly; and his luck that 
day on the turf was anything but consoling. In 
the evening he and the Baronet drove back to 
Grandon House together. 

‘‘ I never saw anything like me luck,” said the 
Duke, very moodily for him; Fve dropped three 
hundred to-day, and two-fifty on Monday.” 

Your turn to win next time,” replied Sir Pur- 
suivant, with the indifference one would naturally 
show for the trifling losses of a fabulously wealthy 
Duke. As a matter of fact he was rather sur- 
prised at the concern his Grace displayed, for he 
had considered him the most light-hearted of 
plungers. But the Duke’s uneasiness was well- 
founded. 

I’ll never last at this rate,” he reflected. I’ll 


140 


THE DUKE 


I41 


have to raise the wind somehow. The Devil 
take Lambert’s stinginess! ” 

“ Sorry to trouble you,” said Sir Pursuivant, as 
they entered the house, “ but there are just one 
or two things I’ll have to consult you about.” 

“ Delighted,” replied his Grace; “ I’ll see ye to- 
morrow morning.” 

“ Time now before dinner,” said the Baronet. 
“ We’re goin’ racin’ again to-morrow.” 

“ Oh, very well,” answered the Duke, with a 
very bored air. 

He was beginning to get nearly as annoyed 
with Sir Pursuivant as with his secretary. An 
adviser who tendered counsel when it had never 
been asked for, and an agent who actually wanted 
his opinion, struck him as a heavy price to pay 
for his dignity. 

They went to that apartment which the Duke 
Jack termed his “ study,” and there his Grace lit 
a cigar and stretched himself in his easiest chair, 
while Sir Pursuivant in a methodical, business- 
like manner produced a bundle of papers. 

“ Address of welcome from your Scotch ten- 
ants,” he remarked, handing the first of these to 
his patron ; “ hopin’ to see you at Dunwishart 
soon, and that sort of thing.” 




THE DUKE 


‘‘ Faith, it’s very good of them,” said his Grace; 
‘‘ answer it, will ye? and say Fm very pleased to 
hear from them and Fll come when I can.” 

Better go as soon as the season’s over. Frank 
used to try and put in a week there now and 
then; not much of late years though. I always 
thought it was a pity to drop the custom, but 
then poor Frank wasn’t much of a shootin’ man, 
and he’d lots o’ other things to do.” 

I’m not a shooting man either,” said his 
Grace captiously. 

“ All the same it’s the sort of thing to do.” 

“ Be George, I’m not going to hurry away 
from town for any tenants.” 

No hurry; better not put it off too long 
though. You’ve had the place five hundred years, 
and they feel they’ve a kind of claim on you, don’t 
you know.” 

‘‘ I’ll see to it,” said his Grace carelessly. ‘‘ Any- 
thing else? ” 

Sir Pursuivant looked at him doubtfully for a 
moment and then jerked out in a casual tone — 

“ There was another reason, I fancy, why Frank 
didn’t go up much; there’s some one there.” 

Oh,” said his Grace in a tone of boredom he 
had found it useful to acquire. 


THE DUKE 


143 


Again Sir Pursuivant hesitated, and changed 
his tack. 

“ Ever happened to hear of the Gayes? ” he 
asked. 

“ Gayes? ” repeated his Grace, without interest. 
“ I seem to have heard the name. Begad, I 
know!” His Grace seemed to wake up at the 
recollection, and Sir Pursuivant watched him 
keenly. “ Crissy Stagger told me there was a 
deuced pretty governess called Gaye at Lady 
Georgiana’s.” 

“ H’m,” said the Baronet. “ What’s Stagger 
know about her? ” 

“Ha, ha!” laughed the Duke. “Crissy met 
her there somehow or other; great luck, for old 
Lady G. keeps her pretty tight, I hear, and he 
swears she’s the prettiest girl in town. And 
Crissy knows a thing or two, I tell ye.” 

“ Have you seen her? ” 

The Duke winked knowingly. 

“Ye may bet a fiver, me boy, I sounded Lady 
G., but bad luck to it, the girl was off on a 
holiday. We’ll see to it when she comes back, 
though.” 

Sir Pursuivant was never remarkable as a par- 
ticularly austere moralist, but he seemed to dis- 
like his patron’s tone. 


144 


THE DUKE 


“ In your Grace’s position I should leave her 
alone,” he observed drily. 

“ D’ye think I’d stoop to a governess? ” re- 
plied his Grace loftily. “ It’s just a bit of fun, 
d’ye see.” 

“I see,” said the Baronet; “still I’d go some- 
where else for it. Did you say you ever heard 
the name of Gaye before? ” 

“ Never to the best of me memory. It’s not 
this girl ye were meaning, then? ” 

“ It was her family. The late Duke was inter- 
ested in them. I’d like to speak to you on a 
matter of business about ’em.” 

“ Business? ” asked the Duke impatiently. 

“ Yes,” said the Baronet imperturbably. 

“ See me secretary, will ye? He looks after all 
that for me. I’ll have to go and dress now.” 

The Duke rose as he spoke and made a step 
towards the door. 

“ Pardon me, your Grace,” said the Baronet 
stiffly, “ but there’s just one thing I’d like to say. 
Er — that man Kavanagh — is he your man of busi- 
ness? Either he does it or I — not both. Sorry, 
your Grace, but I don’t quite understand the ar- 
rangement.” 

The Duke stopped and hesitated. 


THE DUKE 


145 

“ He — he wants to see things, don’t you know. 
D n him!” 

The oath came out before he knew what he was 
saying. 

Sir Pursuivant looked at him very keenly. 

“ Why not — er — tell him to mind his own busi- 
ness? ” he suggested, his eyes fixed intently on 
the unfortunate Duke. 

“ I — I don’t want to offend him, d’ye see. Sir 
Pursuivant. Good chap — old friend — and all 
that.” 

He looked uncomfortably at his counsellor. 

“ Offend him? Hang it — er ” The Bar- 
onet paused, and then blurted out, “ What’s the 
matter? Can’t get rid of him? You can trust 
me — er ” 

“ To tell you the honest truth, I can’t get rid of 
him — not just yet, that’s to say.” 

“ You want to? ” 

“ Be George and I do ! ” said the Duke fervently. 

Sir Pursuivant looked at him and then at the 
ceiling. There was an uncomfortable pause, and 
then the Baronet said — 

“ None of my business, don’t you know, but I’d 
have laid fifty to one something was up first time 
I saw the man. Known a lot o’ men plagued 


146 


THE DUKE 


like that — old stories — hush money — that sort of 
thing. What?” 

‘‘ Er — yes — that's the sort of thing.” 

‘‘ Anythin' I can do? I'm at your service, re- 
member. Promised Frank, don't you know. He 
was a devilish good friend to me. I've helped 
him out of scrapes, too, in his day.'' 

Sir Pursuivant laughed creakily and looked in- 
quiringly at the man whom he knew as Frank's 
heir. The Duke would have given his waxed 
moustache to take him into his confidence, but he 
was shrewd enough to know that he was dealing 
with a piston-rod of honesty. 

“ I'm afraid there's nothing to be done — at 
least — faith, I might manage him myself. I'll try, 
be George ! '' 

''As you like,'' said the Baronet. "You know 
best, o' course. Tried money, I s'pose? '' 

" Hundreds, me boy; thousands, and, be George, 
he won't budge an inch! '' 

Sir Pursuivant raised his brows to the very 
slight elevation that his mask of a face allowed. 

" What's he want, then? '' 

" Er — he thinks — faith, he thinks he's a kind 
of a claim — that’s to say '' 

"Claim? To what?” 


THE DUKE 


147 


The Duke was fairly stuck. 

“ I’ll tell ye what, me dear Sir Pursuivant; just 
ye leave him to me to-night, and if I can’t get 
rid of him meself, we’ll lay our heads together, d’ye 
see? And now, be George, it’s time I was dress- 
ing. I’m much obliged to ye, devilish obliged, 
begad.” 

And without any further talk of business, his 
Grace was off. 

“ I thought better of Lambert, I did ! ” he said 
to himself. “ Putting me in a hole like this, 
begad!” 

In a rash moment his Grace had asked the 
Baronet to dine at Grandon House, and half an 
hour later the two faced one another in uncom- 
fortable silence. The Duke shivered under his 
guest’s cold grey eyes through course after course, 
while the Baronet ruminated behind his long, 
impassive countenance. 

“Where’s Kavanagh?” he asked abruptly. 

“Gone out,” said his Grace; “I never know 
where he is.” 

That was the only reference Sir Pursuivant made 
to their talk till they had gone to the smoking- 
room and each silently buried himself in a paper 
for a time. All at once he said — 


148 


THE DUKE 


“ You’re going to speak to him? ” 

“ Who? ” 

“ Kavanagh.” 

“ Yes,” said the Duke. 

“And you still want me to refer to him on — 
er — that matter? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ ’Fraid I must be goin’ off. Good-night.” 

The Baronet rose, nodded, and stalked out. 

“ Heaven be thanked! ” sighed his Grace. “ Be 
the powers, how thirsty the old curmudgeon 
makes ye! ” 


CHAPTER XVI 


'^HAT same morning Lambert went for a stroll 
^ in the park, and presently sat down upon a 
chair. It was pleasant under the trees, and the 
spectacle of the people, and especially of the horses, 
amused him now and then. His Grace was still 
abed when he left, and he had had no word with 
him since the astonishing scene in the drawing- 
room. 

A prancing pair of steeds approached, a stout 
lady and a pretty one reclining behind them. To 
the stout lady’s face was affixed a condescending 
smile. 

Here come my dear relations. Lady Georgiana 
and the fair Julia,” said Lambert to himself. By 
jingo, they’d be surprised if I hailed them as 
cousins! ” 

All at once he caught the Lady Georgiana’s 
eye. 

‘'She is actually bowing! I never had such a 
smile in my life! They are stopping — she’s getting 
out — great Scot, she’s coming to speak to me! ” 

149 


150 


THE DUKE 


The secretary sat so petrified with astonishment 
that he had hardly presence of mind enough to 
rise as the gracious lady actually held out her 
hand. Meanwhile Julia and the carriage slowly 
pranced off again. The Lady Georgiana, then, 
meant to remain with the secretary. 

'' What a charming morning, Mr. Kavanagh,’’ 
she began. Do you often patronise the park? 
Pray sit down — we see so little of you, you know.” 

As she said this with her most winning air, she 
herself sat in the next chair to his. Lambert 
hardly knew whether he could believe his senses. 

And how is the Duke this morning? We 
must evidently come to you for the most authentic 
news of him.” 

She positively beamed upon the secretary. 

He was in bed when I left,” said Lambert. ‘‘ I 
fancy he’s fit enough though.” 

Lady Georgiana glanced at him curiously and 
respectfully. This offhand reference to a duke was 
very impressive, and all the more so for the obvious 
innocence of the secretary’s intention. 

You are really a most exacting secretary,” she 
smiled. I don’t know what the Duke would do 
without his counsellor.” 

There was evidently no satire here, and Lam- 


THE DUKE 


ISI 

bert became more bewildered than ever. A pleas- 
ing suspicion began to dawn upon him that Lady 
Georgiana had only been waiting for some evi- 
dence of his real merit to display the true kind- 
ness of her disposition. He laughed a friendly 
laugh, and answered — 

You see even a duke needs some coaching 
when he’s new to the business.” 

Precisely,” said Lady Georgiana, with empha- 
sis. I think that in many ways the Duke is 
much the better for a sensible friend. A young 
man suddenly placed in such an elevated position 
is naturally inclined to make mistakes at first.” 

Oh, he’ll settle down,” said Lambert. 

‘'I trust so sincerely; but I only hope that he 
will — ah — settle judiciously.” 

Lady Georgiana began to assume an extremely 
confidential manner. 

‘‘ There are so many temptations for a young 
man in his position, Mr. Kavanagh. I should be 
so sorry to see my relative do anything foolish — 
that is to say, permanently foolish.” 

‘‘ In his case I am certain it won’t last long,” 
answered Lambert. 

There seemed to Lady Georgiana to be some- 
thing behind this observation, and yet the secre- 


152 


THE DUKE 


tary’s face remained impassive. She felt more and 
more convinced that for some reason he was a 
powerful factor. 

To the secretary’s glowing wonder she dis- 
cussed his Grace freely and yet with affection, as 
if to an ally in the task of making an ideal duke 
of him. She also indicated the heartfelt and life- 
long gratitude which his relations would feel 
towards his secretary should he steer his patron 
successfully through the shoals of the town, and 
alluded to her husband’s influence and Lambert’s 
own career. 

But I know what you young men are always 
waiting for,” she said — the right sort of girl to 
marry — isn’t it, now? ” 

“Haven’t thought of it myself; at least not as 
a practical scheme.” 

“ It will come some day,” she smiled, “ and in 
most cases the sooner the better. Take the Duke, 
for instance — we couldn’t wish for anything more 
fortunate, if she was the right sort. Ah, here is 
my carriage again.” 

Lambert looked up too, and his eye fell at once 
upon the fair countenance of Miss Julia Stock. 
She was smiling at him, too. A second suspicion 
flashed across his mind, a suspicion much less 


THE DUKE 


153 


flattering to himself, and for an instant Lady 
Georgiana was puzzled again by that faint smile 
that reminded her indefinitely of somebody. 

“ Now I hope you will come and see us very 
soon,” she said as she rose. “ I am always at 
home on Tuesdays, remember.” 

“Not quite worth while asking me to dinner, 
my dear cousin,” said Lambert to himself. 

His lessons continued. When he got back to 
Grandon House he found a note from Lady Roulett 
asking him to dine, and another from the Right 
Honourable John Stock inviting him to lunch at 
his club. But for his conversation with Lady 
Georgiana he would have been much puzzled by 
this sudden popularity. 

In all the little rubs and the glimpses of the 
lining of things it had been amusing enough play- 
ing the part of humble and obscure secretary, 
but he felt with a spasm of disgust that he could 
never act this new role for more than a day or 
two. 

“ The man with a duke to sell ! ” he thought. 

He knew that his Grace was going to patronise 
the turf that afternoon and would be late in com- 
ing back, and so towards evening he strolled off by 
himself to dine at random. 


154 


THE DUKE 


In the restaurant chance took him to, there 
were sitting three bronzed adventurers just re- 
turned from half the world away. So lately he 
was such an one as they! He caught fragments 
of their talk and heard familiar names and the re- 
tailing of circumstances that sounded like old 
friends, and his fancy took fire. Again he saw 
the stars that watch strange continents, and the 
people and the trees and the magic of their lands. 
The hum of the streets became the sound of the 
surge and he saw an illimitable horizon and tossing 
ships at sea. The charm of the open air was upon 
him again. 

Get away from here, get away from here,” 
the sounds seemed to say to him. What are 
you doing in Babylon? ” 

‘‘ But where am I to go, and what am I to 
do? ” he asked himself. 

And then his fancy having roamed to the other 
side of the world, there came into his mind the 
memory of one lying over there in an unhonoured 
grave; and he remembered his ‘^business.” Now 
here he was wondering what to do with him- 
self. 

He rose and walked briskly out into the night, 
and turning westward, went through the life and 


THE DUKE 


IS5 

the noise till at last he reached a quiet street where 
none but the respectable lived. In Mrs. Lou- 
vaine’s windows the blinds were bright. Lambert 
stopped at her door and rang. 


CHAPTER XVII 


T AM BERT was ushered into the drawing-room 
^ and left for a little alone with the lamp-light 
and the shadows. Then Mrs. Louvaine came in 
radiant for a night in the world. She looked almost 
young and very slender and bright. Hers was a 
face that made friends at a glance and charmed out 
confidence fromi man or woman or child, whomso- 
ever she smiled upon. Her dress, her air, her 
every movement gave a quiet pleasure like the 
sound of running water. 

She sat on a sofa half in shadow and Lambert 
dropped into an easy chair. ! 

“ Pm afraid,'’ said he, I've called at an unusual ■ 
hour.” I 

It is all the more friendly of you," she answered, I 
with an air of meaning all she said; in fact, her eyes j 
looked very bright and glad to see him. | 

‘‘ But you are going out." | 

‘‘Not yet; not for hours if you'd like to stay. | 
One advantage of this society you are so down on is | 
that it never misses one." 

156 i 


THE DUKE 


157 


“ I am the more down on it,” said Lambert, with 
his frankest air. 

“ Alas ! ” sighed Mrs. Louvaine, “ you are be- 
coming sophisticated ! ” 

“ I’m becoming restless, as you see,” he laughed. 

She looked at him with guarded curiosity. 
Some confidence was coming, she felt sure. 

“ Is it managing a Duke that’s the matter with 
you ? ” 

“ I can’t say he troubles me much.” 

“ I was introduced to him the other night,” she 
said, “ and I must confess ” 

“ Yes? ” 

“ Well, to be candid, I was even more disap- 
pointed with his conversation than his appear- 
ance.” 

“ Most people seem to like him.” 

“ Yes,” said she. “ I believe he slaps them on 
the back, doesn’t he? ” 

He laughed, and then abruptly he said — 

“ You knew his father, you said. Perhaps that 
prejudices you.” 

“ Prejudices? ” 

“ Yes. You admitted you knew some story.” 

“ And why should that prejudice me? ” she asked, 
her manner unconsciously warming. 


iS8 


THE DUKE 


‘‘ I know something of that story/' 

There was a brief pause. Lambert was looking- 
straight before him, while Mrs. Louvaine's face 
was shaded by her hand. 

Do you know the whole truth? " he asked sud- 
denly. 

‘‘ Yes." 

‘‘Would you mind telling it to me? You said 
you would if I asked you. The whole story — I 
have only heard parts." 

“ If you like, I'll tell it," she said quietly, her hand 
still across her eyes. “ You will believe it? " 

“ Yes." 

“ It has never been told before." 

She stopped and seemed to be thinking, so far 
as he could see her face at all, and then she began — 
“ A long time ago, before you were born I think, 
and when I was younger than I am now, the present 
Duke of Grandon's father, Walter Haselle, got a 
commission in the Guards and came up to town. 
He had some means of his own, though he was 
never rich; he was fond of sport, fond of society, 
and fond of life altogether; and he was one of the 
most charming men I have ever known. But per- 
haps you know all this? " 

“ Go on," said Lambert; “ tell me everything." 


THE DUKE 


159 


“ Well, in an unlucky hour for himself he became 
a friend — if I can use the word — of the late Duke 
of Grandon’s. He was one of the family, though 
a very distant relation, he was in the same set, and 
he was willing to lose his money. The Duke had 
only come of age a year or two before and already 
he was the most reckless gambler and the hardest 
hearted man in London; the very hardest, I think, 
in the whole world. He was too hard, I believe, 
to ever really care for women’s society, though he 
had a bad reputation in every way, but he was not 
quite hard enough to restrain his passion for play 
and betting and speculation of every kind. After- 
wards he grew hard enough even for that, and 
every time he made a bet they say his calculations 
were so good that he scarcely ever lost. But when 
Walter Haselle knew him he was ruining himself 
just as fast as a man could. And yet it was always 
his object to play the rook, and he picked his 
friends for their willingness to play the pigeon.” 

“ What about Sir Pursuivant Debrette? ” asked 
Lambert. 

Mrs. Louvaine’s voice changed for the moment 
into a softer key. 

” He is one in a thousand, though you might 
not think so. Sir Pursuivant was the Duke’s 


i6o 


THE DUKE 


guardian angel — as he has been the best of friends 
to me; but at that time he was too young and the 
Duke too headstrong for him to act as a drag. The 
rest were either parasites or victims. One was ulti- 
mately both — have you heard of Harry Gaye? ” 

I have just heard his name — as a scoundrel. 
Who was he? ’’ 

'' He was a young man of good family, in the 
same regiment as Walter; in fact, I think it was 
through him that Walter came to know the Duke 
so well. He was married to a pretty girl, well con- 
nected too, and quite penniless. They were one 
of those couples you see so often in London, going 
everywhere, related to a few highly placed people 
who are no earthly good to them, and living the life 
of the smartest set on the income of a prosperous 
butler. I once was rather like that myself, so I 
know. Harry Gaye had sunk very low in his own 
self-esteem by that time, I am afraid, and his wife 
wasn’t strong enough, or didn’t see clearly enough, 
to influence him. Though really I believe she was 
not a bad woman. 

Walter Haselle was drawn into this vortex. 
He lived beyond his means, lost most of his capital 
as light-heartedly as I suppose a Guardsman should, 
and still he was hand and glove with the Duke and 


THE DUKE 


i6i 


Gaye, going the pace his Grace set. Oh, take 
care ! ” 

Lambert started at this sudden appeal, and Mrs. 
Louvaine laughed a little, friendly, apologetic 
laugh. 

“ Forgive me,” she cried; ” but I have seen so 
much. 

“ But to go on with my story. There came an 
extraordinary run of ill-luck for the Duke, and poor 
Walter Haselle happened to be one of the people 
who won from him. It was only fair — if any such 
things are fair — he was being ruined by the Duke 
and then it happened to be his turn to win. But 
the Duke, though he might be a great nobleman, 
was never a gentleman. He wanted money, and 
he determined — there’s no doubt about it — to 
finish Walter for once and all. 

“ They played in Grandon House. The Duke, 
Walter, Gaye and his wife, and one or two more 
people were there. I don’t know what they played, 
I have a horror of cards, I have never looked at one 
since — well, for many years. Walter Haselle that 
night had one of those runs of luck that we some- 
times hear of. Nothing could go wrong. The 
Duke seemed trying to frighten him by the stakes 
they were playing, but always the Duke lost. The 


THE DUKE 


162 

others were cautious, and those two practically 
were playing against one another. At last the 
Duke stood to lose something like fifty thousand 
pounds. It would have been the last straw. No 
one but Gaye, and afterwards Sir Pursuivant, knew 
how near the brink of ruin the Duke stood. He 
had speculated in worthless companies, backed los- 
ing horses for fabulous sums, got hopelessly into 
debt, and now this was more than he could afford 
to lose. He was a hard man, remember, desperate 
and quite unscrupulous.’’ 

Mrs. Louvaine paused and glanced at Lambert. 
He was looking at the carpet. 

‘‘ Well? ” he asked very quietly. 

Well,” she went on, ‘‘ all of a sudden Gaye cried 
out that Walter was cheating.” 

Lambert started. 

'' It wasn’t true? ” he exclaimed. 

It was absolutely false ! Walter Haselle was 
the most simple-minded and honourable gentle- 
man, but think how taken aback and confused any 
one would be at such a charge! He turned, of 
course, upon Gaye. Gaye called on his wife to wit- 
ness. She was absolutely devoted to Gaye, and 
what won’t a woman do for the man she loves — es- 
pecially when it is only saying yes instead of no? ” 


THE DUKE 


163 

And ruining another,” said Lambert. 

Yes, even when it means ruining another! 
She took her husband’s side. I think — I hope — 
they had not arranged it beforehand, though 
whether the Duke and Gaye had I cannot guess. 

The Duke, I was told, turned very pale, but 
showed no other sign of any emotion. He simply 
said, ‘ I wondered whether any one had noticed 
it.’ ” 

Lambert gave a half-choked exclamation. 

‘‘ Then the other people, of course, took the 
Duke’s side. He and Gaye had acted so perfectly 
that they almost thought they had seen something 
too. There was a short scene, but what could one 
man say or do? Walter Haselle walked out of the 
room beggared of fortune and reputation, and peo- 
ple never saw him again.” 

She stopped, and there was a short pause. Then 
Lambert said — 

‘‘ He was engaged to a girl, wasn’t he? ” 

There was — an understanding,” she answered. 

‘‘And she chucked him too?” 

“ He gave her no chance. He went away.” 

“ The Duke is safely dead,” said Lambert slowly. 
“ But what became of Gaye? ” 

“ He died an absolute beggar.” 


164 


THE DUKE 


“ Then no one who was there can ever tell the 
truth? ” 

“ Only one.” 

Who?” 

“ Mrs. Gaye.” 

Lambert looked up quickly. 

” What became of her? ” 

“ She gave the Duke another opportunity of 
showing how fine a gentleman he was. On Gaye’s 
death he generously placed at her disposal his an- 
cestral castle of Dunwishart, a half-ruinous keep, 
I believe, in the north of Scotland, and gave her 
such an allowance that she has been able to keep 
alive — though not to escape and tell stories.” 

“ Do you think she deserved any better fate? ” 

“ Of the Duke, yes. For herself I cannot judge 
her.” 

“ They were a pretty gang,” said Lambert. 

“ The present Duke doesn’t know this story, 
then?” asked Mrs. Louvaine. 

“ Only a rough outline.” 

“ I thought he seemed singularly thoughtless of 
his father’s memory.” 

“ He certainly was unaware that there was any 
one alive who knew the truth. But I happen to 
know this — he promised his father before he died. 


THE DUKE 


165 


some years ago, I believe, that if anything could be 
done to clear Walter Haselle in the eyes of those 
who remembered him, he should try to do it.” 

“ I am glad to hear it,” she said quietly. 

Lambert rose and held out his hand. 

“ You are going? ” 

“Yes; I have kept you long enough from this 
gay world. Good-night. Many thanks.” 

“ Good-night,” she said, and watched him going 
out of the room with an expression of kindness she 
had kept from her face while he was there. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


HE years will conspire for a period to so hide 
^ some circumstance that the memories of men 
have clean forgotten it and search has for a genera- 
tion been stayed. Then all of a sudden a single 
outspoken day will come and disclose, one after 
another, skeleton, motive, and name; as though 
Time had a conscience. 

Such a day had come for Lambert Haselle and 
the late Duke Francis. Hardly had Lambert en- 
tered Grandon House when he met Sir Pursuivant 
just leaving after his tete-d-tete dinner with his 
Grace. 

EveninV’ said the Baronet in his chilliest man- 
ner, barely glancing at the secretary; ‘‘ Pd like to 
see you for a minute.’’ 

He turned without deigning to take further no- 
tice of him, and led the way into the library. 

‘‘ The Duke has referred me to you on a matter 
of business. He seems to want you to act for 
him.” 


i66 


THE DUKE 


167 


“Well?” said Lambert indifferently. 

“ It’s about a Mrs. Gaye, a pensioner of the late 
Duke’s. Nothin’ was done for her in his will, but 
he wished me to try and make some arrange- 
ment.” 

It seemed to the Baronet’s sharp eyes that the 
secretary became more interested. 

“ I’ll go and see her,” he said. 

“ D’you know where she is? ” 

“ Where? ” 

“ Dunwishart — long way to go.” 

“ That makes no odds.” 

“ What are you goin’ to do about it? ” the Baro- 
net asked sharply. 

“ I’ll see when I get there,” said Lambert casu- 
ally. 

Sir Pursuivant with difficulty suppressed his irri- 
tation. 

“ When are you goin’ to start? ” he asked. 

“ To-morrow.” 

“ I’ll write to-night,” said the Baronet; and 
throwing the curtest of nods, he stalked out of the 
house in a state of anger he had seldom been in 
before. 

“ Don’t know which of ’em is the fishiest,” he 
said to himself. “ The secretary’s got the impu- 


i68 


THE DUKE 


dence of the devil; and heavens, what a Duke o’ 
Grandon ! I’m sick of the whole thing.” 

And then he remembered his promise to his 
dying patron, and for the sake of that heartless 
scoundrel’s memory he shut his mouth tighter than 
ever and resolved to see the business through. 

Meantime Lambert had gone to his temporary 
Grace’s study. That nobleman greeted him with 
a most effective sigh. It went bitterly against the 
grain by this time to derogate so far from his dig- 
nity as to plead with his secretary, but it had to be 
done, and instinctively he did it dramatically and 
thoroughly. 

“ Lambert, me dear boy,” he began in a melan- 
choly voice, “ am I not your old friend; the friend 
who, by the grace of Providence ” 

“ Pulled me out of the Walleroo river? Yes, 
and I haven’t forgotten it. What’s up now? ” 

“ It’s a small thing after all, being a jook for a 
week or so,” his Grace continued in the same tone. 
“And mind, ye proposed it yourself. Ye remem- 
ber that? ” 

“ Perfectly.” 

“ And is this the way ye are going to treat an 
old friend?” 

“This?” said Lambert, looking very surprised. 


THE DUKE 


169 


“ Rebuking me to me face before all the com- 
pany, and ruling it over me till they’re all wonder- 
ing which of us is the Jook and which isn’t.” 

“ Do you mean to say ” 

“ Faith and I do ! Here’s Sir Pursuivant this 
very day asking me who he’s to take his orders 
from, and as good as saying he’ll call in the police 
if I don’t explain! And all the others — they’re 
looking at me and asking questions; begad they 
are ! ” 

This ingenious travesty of the precise facts pro- 
duced an evident effect upon Lambert. 

“ I’m afraid I have been thoughtless,” he con- 
fessed. “ I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to spoil sport. 
But then. Jack, you haven’t always stuck to your 
part of the bargain. You agreed not to have any 
public performances.” 

“Ye never said I wasn’t to make a speech at all, 
Lambert. I’m a born orator, me boy, and old 
Stock seemed anxious for me to display me 
powers; d’ye see how it happened? ” 

“ Well,” said Lambert, “ is it understood now 
that you’ve not to make the Duke of Grandon any 
more conspicuous than you have already? — and 
you’ve done pretty well. Jack.” 

“ Right ye are. I understand.” 


THE DUKE 


170 

I can trust you? ” 

As ye would yourself ! ” 

‘‘And the money? I’ll throw in another thou- 
sand.” 

“Ye will? And that’s like your generous self ! ” 

“ Of course you don’t use my signature to draw 
any more.” 

“ What d’ye take me for? ” 

“ I thought I’d just mention it, for I’m going to 
leave you to yourself.” 

“ Leave me? ” exclaimed his Grace, hardly able 
to feign regret; he was so astounded by these good 
tidings. “ What’s that for? ” 

“I’m sick of town. Jack! I was thinking to- 
night of the old days, and the free life, and the never 
knowing what was going to happen next — and 
everything. And now I’ve found something to 
do.” 

“ Where are ye going? ” 

“ To Dunwishart.” 

“That’s me ancestral seat, ye mean?” 

His Grace said this quite unconsciously; he al- 
most believed that it was really his. 

“Yes. I’m going on business. You can tell 
Debrette you’ve sent me; and don’t let him ask any 
questions.” 


THE DUKE 


171 


“ I see,” said his Grace, with a wink. Mystery 
to him implied a wink. “ When are ye to be 
back? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ Well, me dear boy, ye can be easy in your mind 
while ye’re away. I’ll do the thing as discreetly as 
ye could yourself. Ye can tell me man to pack for 
ye. Good luck to ye ! ” 

To himself his Grace smiled. 

“ Now for some fun ! ” he thought. 

Then he felt that a graver attitude was neces- 
sary. 

“ Lambert’s treated me badly — infernally badly. 
What’s another beggarly thousand? If he’d made 
it ten, now! Faith, it’s the least he could do to 
leave me to meself.” 

From which it appears that his Grace had a con- 
science — and that it was now satisfied. 


PART 11 

CHAPTER I 

CRANCIS, DUKE OF GRANDON, was safely 
^ dead; beyond the reach of retribution here; 
secure against the attack of any man. He had 
sneaked across the border acclaimed and applauded, 
his venial sins forgiven him by the easy world he 
had left; his crime quite unsuspected. But in his 
most sardonic hour he could not have devised a 
more humorous legacy than he had bequeathed to 
his tools and his heir and his relations. They had 
to reap what he had sown, and now here they were 
all merrily engaged upon the harvest. Such a 
huge jest had been beyond his late Grace’s imag- 
ination; but if he now was permitted to look up 
from his new residence and survey the stage he 
had quitted, he must have been tickled by the 
predicaments he had put them in; while as for 
that ridiculous thing, his own reputation, surely 


172 


THE DUKE 


173 


it was worth while risking that to see such a 
pother going on around it. 

And yet if his Grace, thus looking upon the 
earth, could be supposed to retain any of that 
one fear which he had shown on his deathbed, 
he must have felt still more afraid to see his mem- 
ory in such imminent danger of being stripped of 
all its whitewash. Compunction at the spectacle 
of his poor catspaw being hunted down after all 
these years would scarcely be a fitting sentiment 
for so great a nobleman as the late Duke of 
Grandon; but the prospect of his own skeleton 
being dug up and carted through the clubs of St. 
James’ was enough to make a shade turn paler (if 
indeed his late Grace had not rather become 
bronzed by this time). And, most shocking 
notion of all, it was principally contempt that his 
old acquaintances would feel. 

So far, then, Duke Francis may be imagined as 
smiling at the Grandon tangle; but now early 
upon a morning the Scotch mail was hurrying 
Lambert Haselle from the gay town, and the tale 
had begun to take another turn. A Grandon was 
set to catch a Grandon. 

As the day broke, in the grey of the early 
morning and the red of the rising sun, when the 


174 


THE DUKE 


people left in London were only just coming away 
from the routs of the season, Lambert, like the 
hero of the ballad, was crossing the border. He 
awoke and looked down from his carriage-window 
upon the open sea. Now it was shut out to a 
mere bright belt, and now, where the cliffs fell, 
visible throughout its whole expanse. He saw 
the sails of a ship and the smoke of steamers, and 
they seemed to him like old friends. 

As became a true adventurer, his spirits rose 
with the headlong speed and the prospect of some- 
thing doing away up the shining rails before him. 

Off with another man’s name and a chance of 
something happening,” he said to himself. This 
is better than a dukedom! ” 

Yet as he watched the country flying past, his 
eyes had a look of purpose rather than amusement, 
for he felt that his adventures had taken a different 
twist. 

Further on, broad valleys began to narrow into 
glens and streams flow faster, till by midday he 
was among the heather hills. And then he began 
to discover that though he might go under any 
name he liked, there were unsuspected legacies in 
his blood he could never get rid of. For though 
he had only once before been north of the equator, 


THE DUKE 


175 


and of all the things his eyes had been accustomed 
to rest on, not the shape or colour of one resembled 
those they looked on now, yet he felt more than 
a mere traveller’s satisfaction. This country 
seemed to have a place in his fancy awaiting it. 
And other inheritances were only biding their time, 
so that the adventurer was not so far removed 
from a Duke of Grandon as he carelessly imagined. 

Clear pools of summer rivers, rocky glens, and 
bare moors went by with the telegraph-posts, till 
in the early afternoon the train descended upon a 
strip of fertile sea-board stretched at the feet of 
the Highland hills, and Lambert at last stepped 
out upon an airy platform, where a flavour of 
superfluous time and an odour of scented heath 
and clover pervaded the wayside station. This 
was the old territory of the Haselles, and for the 
rest of the way he drove through his own lands, 
between the moors and the ocean, with crying 
plover for company. 

It was late afternoon or early evening (the days 
were so long up there that time was hard to sub- 
divide) when he reached a little cottage on the shore, 
with red roofs, a square weather-beaten church- 
tower, a diminutive harbour, and the masts of 
two or three herring-boats to give a salt, seafaring 


1/6 


THE DUKE 


air to it all. But it was something else that caught 
his eye, and made him suddenly realise that the 
business ’’ he had come home upon was ready to 
his hand. Just beyond the village he could see 
that the road and the coast parted company, leav- 
ing a wood between them, and there, above the 
tree-tops, those must be the battlements of Dun- 
wishart Castle. 

They drew up before a two-storied, blue-slated 
house, where a signboard informed the traveller 
he could refresh if he pleased, and with a touch of 
emotion he could not resist, Lambert saw that it 
bore the arms of his family. The landlord of this 
inn was a gaunt elderly man with a sombre face, 
who at first treated his guest with a dour Scottish 
reticence. But presently, as Lambert talked with 
him, his tongue was loosened, and what he said 
made a sharp impression upon the young Duke, 
come for the first time to the country of his fore- 
fathers. 

Business slack? ” said the gaunt landlord. 
Aye, and it’s like to be that so long as we have 
lairds o’ Dunwishart like the last Duke. A hard 
laird he was, sir. Him that owned all the coun- 
tryside and got his money off it never looked near 
us these last twenty years. If he’d just come and 


THE DUKE 177 

been friendly-like, his people wouldna have minded 
it so.” 

“ His people? ” said Lambert. 

“ Aye, d’ye not know that a Duke o’ Grandon 
is a kind o’ god here if he pleases, and a kind o’ 
devil if he likes that better? Wha’s lived in his 
house these eighteen years, think ye, sir? Just a 
wumman o’ his! ” 

“ Mrs. Gaye? ” 

“That’s her name; and a gey poor bargain for 
us,” said the landlord, with a dry smile at his own 
jest. 

Upon Lambert’s asking what was the matter 
with her, he answered enigmatically — 

“ The less right folk have to be proud, the mair 
pride they show; and the worse they come by their 
money the less o’ it honest folk sees.” 

Then Lambert ventured to ask him if he had 
heard anything of the new Duke. 

“ It’s early yet to judge,” he said cautiously; 
“ but I dinna like what I hear. Is he never com- 
ing to see us, either? ” 

“ I happen to know that he is.” 

“ And that’s gude news,” said the landlord, his 
sombre face seeming to clear somewhat at the 
prospect. 


178 


THE DUKE 


When the new Duke a little later walked 
through the village in the fading light and saw 
knots of men and women taking the evening air, 
he said to himself — My people/’ 

He was bent now for the castle, determined to 
get through his unpleasant business as speedily as 
he might, and little suspecting what lay upon the 
knees of the gods. 

A short way beyond the village he came upon 
two grey lichen-grown pillars surmounted by the 
weather-beaten remains of heraldic monsters; the 
lodge beside them evidently long unused and the 
gates perpetually open for want of a keeper to 
close them. The wood within was chiefly of black, 
wind-blown pines, and through them a sandy, 
ragged drive wound into the obscurity of evening. 
As he went along it he noticed no signs of recent 
wheel-marks or any sort of attention, and the only 
things he saw besides the multitude of trees were 
scores of scuttling rabbits. 

Presently the wood abruptly stopped, and a 
grey battlemented lump of masonry stood suddenly 
before him. It looked so dark and silent and for- 
bidding that he stopped for a time in the edge of 
the trees, as if he were studying its defences. 


CHAPTER II 


T A riTHIN the old castle of Dunwishart shad- 
^ ' ows were deepening in empty rooms and 
the short summer night seemed to be drawing in 
as quietly and uneventfully as night after night 
had closed for so many years. Throughout all 
the dark pile, from the tower where no one kept 
watch to the dungeons where no one was impris- 
oned, there were only two rooms with any sign of 
life in them. Down in the kitchen the staff were 
still at work — the staff was just one solitary maid 
for all this baronial seat; while upstairs in the 
ancient library, overlooking the sea, two women 
sat. Of these, one was a little, middle-aged lady, 
looking older than her years by reason of the lines 
in her face and grey in her hair which trouble had 
brought her. She was very plainly dressed in 
black with a shawl about her shoulders, and she 
leaned back in her chair, leaving a book unopened 
on her knee. Her face had once been fair, but 
now for many years had worn a withered, fright- 
179 


i8o 


THE DUKE 


ened aspect, like folk reported to have seen the 
devil. She had come pretty near it, for she had 
seen Duke Francis at his most devilish. 

The other was a girl of nineteen, sitting under 
a window, and apparently trying to read by the 
long evening light. She was of barely middle 
height, slightly made, and as plainly dressed as 
the other. But with that the resemblance ended, 
so that you could scarcely guess them for mother 
and daughter. The girl’s eyes were cast down on 
her book, but the rest of her face seemed to deserve 
the compliment Lord Crysanthemus had paid it. 
Even in repose it had a kind of subdued expression 
of life, given by a suggestion of smile about the 
mouth and more than a mere suggestion of wilful- 
ness in the chin. This perhaps meant nothing, 
but at least it tempted men to inquire. Her hair, 
where it broke across her brow and the light shone 
through it, was very fair and bright, so that com- 
pared with the sombre panelled room and the 
gathering shadows and the faded old lady, she 
looked as gay as a garden. And it was all her face 
and hair, for what she wore was gravity itself. 

Evidently she had not been reading very deeply, 
for she said suddenly, as though she had been 
thinking of something that went before — 


THE DUKE 


i8i 


'' Then we are dependent on the new Duke’s 
bounty? ” 

She looked up as she spoke, and her eyes com- 
pleted the portrait. Their glance was very straight, 
and they too courted further inquiry; though at 
this moment they were the soberest part of her 
face. 

Utterly,” her mother sighed. 

‘‘ We were left nothing at all? ” 

Not a penny, Marjorie.” 

And yet father had ruined himself for the 
Duke’s sake? ” 

‘‘ He left us beggars.” 

And so we can’t be choosers,” said Marjorie. 

We seem to be just tied in a sack and thrown 
about like the Count of Monte Cristo.” 

She spoke cheerfully, but there was an edge be- 
neath her words like a north wind on a sunny day. 
Singularly enough, this historic castle which they 
had enjoyed all to themselves for so long, with 
food enough to keep them alive and the privilege 
of showing visitors round and taking a percentage 
of the fees, had not apparently been sufficient to 
induce perfect content. 

I wrote to Sir Pursuivant Debrette,” said Mrs. 
Gaye presently. 


THE DUKE 


182 

“ To ask if another Duke wants pensioners to 
support? ” 

‘‘Marjorie!” her mother exclaimed, “how can 
we help it? ” 

“We might exhibit ourselves as white mice in 
a cage, or goldfish in a globe, or butterflies on 
pins,” the girl suggested. 

Her mother seemed to be thinking of some- 
thing other than these proposals, for it was in a 
very frightened voice that she suddenly said — 

“ I wanted to know the worst.” 

“ The worst? ” 

“ The new Duke may try to harm us, Mar- 
jorie.” 

“Why should he?” said Marjorie, opening her 
eyes. “ I never knew we were of sufficient account 
for any one to trouble us.” 

Mrs. Gaye played nervously with the leaves of 
her book. She caught her breath before she 
answered, and then she spoke in such a low and 
timid voice that it almost seemed as if she saw 
Duke Francis at her shoulders and heard him bid- 
ding, her be careful what she said. 

“Your father, dear, was unfriendly with this 
Duke’s father, and he thought he was wronged 


THE DUKE 


183 


“ Who thought? ” 

“ The Duke’s father.” 

“ Was he? ” 

“Marjorie!” the poor lady cried, as if she had 
heard an accuser, “ how dare you ask that? ” 

“ I know my father never wronged any one,” 
said the girl penitently, “and I shall let nobody 
say so.” 

Mrs. Gaye closed her eyes and fell back in her 
chair as though she had got a horrible crisis 
over. 

“ Yet this Duke may think he did,” she man- 
aged to say presently. 

“ But surely he wouldn’t try to punish us? ” 

“ You don’t know these Grandons! ” 

“ I know Lady Georgiana,” said the girl; and 
then she asked, almost as if apropos of her benefi- 
cent employer — 

“ Do you think this new one will be as hard? ” 

“ He wouldn’t, I’m sure, if he knew how de- 
fenceless we were. If he has any heart at all, he 
wouldn’t! And it all happened so long ago! But, 
Marjorie, he won’t deal with us himself.” 

“ What does he say? ” 

“ I heard from Sir Pursuivant to-day. You can 
see what he says.” 


THE DUKE 


184 

She handed Marjorie the letter. It was a docu- 
ment typical of the Baronet: neatly written in a 
small, compact hand, brief and business-like in 
tenour, and coloured (if such a word can be used 
of Sir Pursuivant’s correspondence) by his stiff 
prejudices against all interloping Colonials and 
such-like. 

'' Dear Madam ” (it ran), — '' Yours received. I 
have drawn the Duke’s attention to your letter. 
He shows no unwillingness to fulfil the late Duke’s 
expressed wishes regarding you, but unfortunately 
his secretary, a certain Mr. Kavanagh, informs me 
that the case is now in his hands, and that you 
may shortly expect to see him regarding it. I 
regret that the matter should have been treated in 
this way, but do not think it is entirely his Grace’s 
doing. 

I trust you may find Mr. K. considerate. If 
otherwise, kindly inform me, and I shall do what 
I can to interest his Grace personally. 

“ Yours, &c.. 

Pursuivant R. C. Latour Debrette.” 

The secretary, a certain Mr. Kavanagh, informs 
him! ” exclaimed Marjorie. 

‘'You see,” sighed Mrs. Gaye, “the Duke will 
not listen to us himself.” 


THE DUKE 185 

“ He must,” said Marjorie; “ we won’t deal with 
this secretary! ” 

She looked like giving battle to an army now. 

“ When do you go back to Lady Georgiana’s? ” 
her mother asked suddenly. 

“ Thursday.” 

“Don’t leave me, Marjorie! I am afraid to 
meet this man! ” 

The girl came over to her and saw that she was 
in tears. 

“ I shall stay till he has gone, you may be sure,” 
she said. “ And that won’t be long, because we 
shall tell him at once that we got Dunwishart from 
the Duke of Grandon, and we shall only leave 
when the Duke tells us to himself.” 

“ He is afraid he may relent if he sees us.” 

“ Relent? ” cried Marjorie. “ What should he 
relent of? ” 

“ He is a Grandon ! ” 

“ If he were all the Grandons in the portrait- 
gallery I shouldn’t ask him to relent — only to do 
what’s right, and not to try and revenge imaginary 
injuries on you, mother.” 

“ My dear, I am afraid,” said the trembling little 
old lady. “ If he means to treat us well, why does 
he send this man? ” 


THE DUKE 


1 86 

“ Apparently he has sent himself,” said Marjorie 
scornfully. 

Even as she spoke a step sounded in the stone 
passage, the door opened, and Mr. Kavanagh en- 
tered the library. 


CHAPTER III 


A S her dreaded visitor entered, Mrs. Gaye’s heart 
for a moment stood still. Marjorie’s last 
words, “ Apparently he has sent himself,” were in- 
tended to refer to the officious secretary; but they 
might just as well have meant that the Duke had 
sent himself, and for an instant they bore that sig- 
nificance for her mother. 

In the waning light, Lambert’s face as he came 
into the room, with its composed, careless expres- 
sion, the under-lip slightly drawn up so as to make 
his mouth even more characteristic of his family, 
and the eyes apparently taking in everything they 
fell upon, violently recalled the two Haselles she 
had known — the late Duke and the present Duke’s 
father. These reminiscent expressions only came 
transiently, but it was not till this one swiftly passed 
off that she recovered her wits and remembered that 
she was dealing with his Grace’s representative. 

Lambert himself felt less composed than he 
looked. The sensations of entering as its lord the 
187 


THE DUKE 


I^S 


ancient home of his race had stirred him and made 
him hold his head unconsciously higher; and then 
the anticipation of this meeting was disturbing, and 
to cover the disturbance he put on, like most Eng- 
lishmen, an extra cloak of indifiference. So that 
his demeanour as he came into the room suggested 
anything but that consideration Sir Pursuivant had 
implied might be lacking. 

He bowed to Mrs. Gaye — very coolly it seemed. 
For her part, she stumbled through a sentence 
about expecting him and then turned and intro- 
duced, My daughter — Mr. Kavanagh.'’ 

Marjorie bowed slightly and in silence. As for 
Lambert, he was struck dumb with surprise. No 
one had mentioned a daughter of Mrs. Gaye’s; it 
had never entered into his calculations that he 
should find any other member of her family; and 
here now was a girl whose face caught his fancy as 
instantaneously as one or two faces in the world 
occasionally may. She imagined that it was a total 
blank, expressing, if by any chance it expressed 
anything, contemptuous indifference. But she was' 
no mistress of her insurgent countenance; there 
were lights and shadows always there, and at pres- 
ent it bore a most engaging expression of devilry 
on the leash. 


THE DUKE 


189 


For a perceptible space Lambert simply stared at 
her. It seemed like a trick played upon him. As 
for Marjorie, her colour rose, she gave him a war- 
like glance, and then turned away. 

Inwardly a little disconcerted, outwardly more 
offhand than ever, the secretary sat down and en- 
deavoured to say something, but a more disjointed, 
uneasy conversation never was. Mrs. Gaye, timor- 
ously polite and distracted by her thoughts, made 
a few random remarks and then trembled lest, for 
some vague reason, they should prove compromis- 
ing. As for Lambert, he had always the indefina- 
ble air of distinction he had inherited, and his brief 
experience of London drawing-rooms had already 
put a smoother surface on his casual manners, but 
he was very far from being able, or for the matter 
of that from desiring, to make himself agreeable to 
all and sundry. To his present company he seemed 
merely curt and arrogant, a type of Jack-in-office. 

To Marjorie the episode and the man were both 
intolerable. She contributed nothing to the talk, 
nor did she even deign to cast another glance at the 
secretary, but all the while she picked him to pieces 
in her mind as thoroughly as if he were a luckless 
dandelion. A chance remark and an unusual ex- 
pression or two told her that he came from the colo- 


190 


THE DUKE 


nies, and henceforth she read in him the very worst 
she had ever heard or read of those distant lands. 
He certainly wasn’t a gentleman — that was imme- 
diately obvious, and within a couple of minutes 
it was equally evident he could never become 
one. 

He mentioned the Duke incidentally — in a pat- 
ronising tone, “ as though he had made him,” she 
said to herself. He looked rcund the room just as 
if he owned it, and to cap all, she was conscious 
that he now and then condescended to look at 
her. 

“ I suppose I’m the first white woman he has 
ever seen,” she thought. But as she had seen ob- 
jectionable men before, she did not consider it 
worth while to return his defiling stare, and at last 
she turned in her seat till he could see nothing but 
her fair roll of hair and her slender back. 

All this time her mother was sitting in a seat of 
torture. It could only be fancy, she knew, but cer- 
tainly there was something about this young man 
that continually recalled the past. And he had 
come doubtless to rake among its ashes and fish 
out an episode — and then show it to her daughter. 
By herself it would have been bad enough to face 
the ordeal, but to have Marjorie learn that old 


THE DUKE 


191 

Story was not to be endured. If only the Duke 
himself had come, she might have moved his heart, 
but this hard secretary, she felt sure, would relent- 
lessly carry out his orders. 

She saw once more that evening when the hus- 
band she worshipped had suddenly tempted her, 
and the Duke Francis, or the devil in his likeness, 
had smiled and said, “ I wondered whether any one 
had noticed it,” and their victim had aged under 
their eyes and walked out of the room and the 
world — she remembered vividly how unsteadily he 
walked to the door. Poor sinned against and sin- 
ning lady, it is small wonder she clean lost heart 
now. 

If either mother or daughter could have read 
their guest’s thoughts, they would have had to ad- 
mit that at least he had some excuse for his manner. 
This evil creature he had travelled so far to confront 
proved such a poor, timid little thing, with plain- 
tive eyes, and an apologetic note in her voice, and 
little transient airs that gave a flavour of pedigree 
and died away again into silence and fears. How 
could he find it in his heart to wring her past out of 
a thing so fragile? She would surely break. And 
then this silent girl — ^what part had she in the 
story? 


192 


THE DUKE 


He cast his eyes round the room. There were 
dark bookcases and a sombre picture or two and a 
wide fireplace and deep windows where the last of 
the light was still struggling in and making a faint 
halo round the fair head that was turned away from 
him. It was all his. Then his eyes fell upon the 
family escutcheon carved over the chimney-piece, 
and he remembered the blot upon it and that he 
had promised it should be cleansed. 

Abruptly he sprang to his feet to say good-night, 
and at his movement the girl turned her head. He 
felt suddenly disposed to linger for a minute. 

You return to the Haselle Arms, Mr. Kava- 
nagh? ’’ Mrs. Gaye asked nervously. 

For the night,’' said Lambert. Perhaps you’ll 
give me a chance of seeing you on business in the 
morning? ” 

Mrs. Gaye cowered almost perceptibly. If you 
wish it,” she managed to reply. 

‘‘ I’m afraid it’s necessary,” said Lambert. 

I also want to see the castle,” he added. He 
did not mean to be peremptory, but Marjorie con- 
ceived an insult in his tone. 

You will still find it here,” she said, barely 
glancing at him as she spoke. 

Lambert turned his closest gaze upon her; her 


THE DUKE 


193 


mother gasped; but she just raised her chin a little 
and looked at neither of them. Then the deuce 
must have prompted him to ask — 

‘‘ Do you show visitors round? ’’ 

He could not know what tender ground he was 
treading on, and that this duty had been the bitter- 
est pill their late patron had made them swallow. 
But Marjorie had scented a second insult. 

Did your master tell you to employ us? ’’ she 
asked. 

Marjorie ! ” cried her mother, but the secretary 
seemed unmoved. 

He gave me a free hand,’’ he answered, and 
with the slightest of bows went out. 

Marjorie, Marjorie !” cried her mother. ‘‘What 
have you done? ” 

“ Only what you ought to have done yourself, 
mother! Does he think that because he is the 
Duke of Grandon’s servant he can order us to do 
the Duke’s business with him and show him the 
Duke’s castle as if we were servants too? ” 

Mrs. Gaye only seemed the more frightened by 
this outburst. 

“ But what will the Duke say? ” she asked. 

“ Whatever the Duke is graciously pleased to 
say — all the bad language the Duke graciously 


194 


THE DUKE 


knows — anything the Duke graciously likes ! Only 
let him say it himself.” 

“ Marjorie, what is the matter with you? ” 

“ I have stood it long enough ! ” cried the girl. 
“ I know that I’m strapped up like a mummy so 
that any one can do anything with me that any one 
takes into their patronising heads. I’ve taught 
their brats, but I’m not going to be insulted by their 
servants ! ” 

Mrs. Gaye was silent. She had never heard any- 
thing like this before and the violence of it terrified 
her. It was the pent-up pride of years suddenly 
bursting its dam. 

For a little Marjorie stood by the window saying 
nothing more, and when at last she turned and 
came to her mother, it was a very pale face she 
showed. 

But she saw that her mother’s was still paler. 

“ Mother,” she said, “ one thing is settled. Mr. 
K. is not going to bother you. You can leave him 
to me.” 

“ I dare not.” 

“ Don’t you think I can defend myself? ” 

“ It isn’t yourself Marjorie, it is your father — 
and me, he will attack.” 


THE DUKE 


195 

“ I should rather like to see him,” said Marjorie 
quietly. 

And so the first day of the two Grandons’ busi- 
ness came to an end, and soon there was nothing 
stirring but the pines round the house and the tide 
on the shore. 


CHAPTER IV 


•^HE next morning Lambert returned to the cas- 
^ tie to be received by Miss Marjorie alone. 
She was dressed in the simplest and severest grey, 
and even to the secretary’s uneducated eye it 
seemed as if her hair had a smoothed-out and plas- 
tered-down appearance that took something from 
her radiance, though it added the more character. 
The truth was that this was a calculated effect, and 
it says much for the resentment he had inspired in 
her mind that preparatory to spending a morning 
with a man she should have been at the pains to 
make herself as forbidding as she could. 

“ He certainly won’t look at me now,” she 
thought, as she surveyed herself in the mirror; and 
then with an instinctive movement of her hands, 
permitted just a suggestion of waviness to return 
to her ill-treated locks. The touch wrought magic; 
she looked at herself again, and really the effect was 
not unbecomingly puritanical. 

“I must try doing it like this,” she reflected. 

196 


THE DUKE 


197 


And then to make amends for this little relapse, 
she resolved that at all events no waviness, should 
be imparted to her face. Last thing before she left 
her room she set it like a barometer — “ cold winds, 
and very stormy ” — and maintaining this austere 
expression, came down to daunt her visitor. 

After all this trouble it was irritating to find that 
he looked less depressed than he ought. She de- 
termined to be none the more polite on that ac- 
count. 

“ My mother is confined to her room,” she said. 
“ She cannot receive you.” 

“ I can wait,” the secretary replied. 

As he followed this by no inquiries regarding 
Mrs. Gaye’s malady, but simply stood staring ab- 
sently round the old library, she asked him if he 
was instructed to go through the castle. 

He admitted that he was, and then abruptly 
said — 

“ Do you come too? ” 

“ It is my business,” she answered. 

The castle of Dunwishart was simply a massive, 
feudal keep with a few later additions, none of them 
on a commodious scale, and all by this time as 
weathered without and ancient-booking within as 
the part first built. A portion of it was unfurnished 


198 


THE DUKE 


and half-decayed, and the rest as grim and as sim- 
ple as it doubtless appeared when the first Baron 
Haselle rode over the drawbridge five centuries ago. 
None of the family had made it their home for many 
a day. It was kept up as an heirloom and a show 
place, while the great Dukes of Grandon were far 
away dazzling the town and making a figure in the 
world. No one would ever have suspected them 
of having once been cradled in this rude fortress 
under the heather hills and beside the northern sea. 
Grandon House seemed their natural settling, yet 
it must have been from these harled stones that they 
took south the hard qualities that had never left 
them however they might be disguised. 

Perhaps Lambert had thrown back to some early 
ancestor, or, likelier, his open-air life had with- 
drawn the slide from a dark lantern which burned 
somewhere in the heart of the most worldly Gran- 
don. Certainly something warm awoke in the 
presence of these walls. In Grandon House he had 
been an interloper, but to them he felt he belonged. 

His silent guide conducted him first to the great 
hall that opened abruptly off the worn stone steps 
of a little corkscrew stair. Evidently in its young 
days the need was greater for keeping foes out than 
letting friends in, a principle that the narrow stairs 


THE DUKE 


199 


seemed to have impressed upon all the generations 
of Haselles whose feet had worn them since. 

“ The hall,” said the guide, “ where the noble 
family who sent you took ofif their helmets — at least 
they have graciously hung them up here.” 

And then she turned away, and let him look for 
himself. 

It was an ancient, hewn-stone space, filled with 
the morning sunshine and old suggestions. The 
roof was low and smoked with the fires of centuries, 
the floor stone-flagged and laid here and there with 
rugs of skin, the fireplace an immense and generous 
cavern, the walls eight feet thick, pierced with slits 
of windows and hung with weapons and antlered 
heads. Each black chair and settle and the huge 
round table looked as though they had been 
brought in by giants, and placed there to stay for 
ever. There was nothing here of the gay town ; no 
gilding or paint or mirrors. 

Lambert went up to the huge fireplace. 

“ It looks old enough,” he remarked, by way of 
breaking the silence. 

“ It is considered quite old enough,” said his 
guide. 

She was standing by the further wall, her hands 
behind her back, looking out of one of the arrow 


200 


THE DUKE 


slits. She never glanced at him as she spoke, but 
her manner was not actively impolite, merely quiet- 
ly indifferent. He thought her the incarnation of 
several things. 

Across one end of the hall stretched an open 
work black oak screen dividing it after an ancient 
fashion from a sombre room where once people 
banqueted. 

‘‘ And this is where the noble family dined,” she 
said. 

‘‘ Do you ever use it? ” he asked. 

You can assure his Grace the Duke of Gran- 
don,” she replied, ‘‘ that we have not had the pre- 
sumption.” 

Next she led him by tortuous up and down ways 
through the rest of the show part of the castle. 

He said nothing more, and apparently paid her 
no further attention. Yet once or twice the thought 
crossed his mind that her fair head, despite its se- 
verity, served wonderfully to set off this old-world 
place. 

“ I suppose you were told to inspect every- 
thing? ” she remarked at length. 

'' Everything.” 

Does the Duke propose to come here him- 
self? ” 


THE DUKE 


201 


“ You may see him at any moment.” 

His guide started, and for the first time looked 
straight at him. 

“ When does he wish us to leave? ” she de- 
manded. 

“ Not before he comes.” 

“ But we can’t stay while he is here.” 

“ I can only repeat his own words.” 

“Why does he wish this?” she asked, with a 
sudden air of suspicion. 

“ His Grace is somewhat eccentric.” 

“ What do you mean? ” 

“ Peculiar, they say — for a Duke.” 

Marjorie had a brief struggle with her curiosity. 
Then it won the day, and she asked, endeavouring 
to look as indifferent as possible — 

“ What form does his peculiarity take? ” 

“ His manners are bad,” said Lambert; “ his ap- 
pearance, I am certain, would prejudice you in- 
stantly; and his morals are indifferent.” 

“ That seems quite commonplace — for a Duke,” 
she said. “ Is there nothing good to set against 
all this? ” 

“ Next to nothing.” 

“ Then, if he were my employer, I should try to 
find something.” 


202 


THE DUKE 


‘‘ You’d fail.” 

At least I shouldn’t run him down before stran- 
gers.” 

‘‘ I have used the same expressions in his hear- 
ing,” said the secretary. 

His guide gave him a look as much as to say, 
‘‘ I’d like to see you,” and without further comment 
led him to the last thing there was to see — the por- 
trait-gallery. 

The portraits of the noble family,” she said. 

It was a long room running from side to side of 
the old keep and empty of everything but dead Ha- 
selles. They had hung in their gilded frames year 
in and year out till now they had taken such com- 
plete possession of the very air of the gallery that 
their descendant felt it belonged to them and not 
to him. 

He made the acquaintance first of what may be 
called his pre-artistic ancestors; individuals who 
flourished, according to the unimpeachable author- 
ity of their descendants’ family tree, at such an early 
period of their country’s history that it came as a 
pleasant surprise to learn that the art of portrait- 
painting was so advanced even as this in those 
stormy times. There was Fergus, chieftain of the 
Piets in the seventh century, formidable in a full- 


THE DUKE 


203 


bottomed wig and battle-axe; Kormac, who mar- 
ried a daughter of the celebrated Macbeth, arrayed 
in the scarlet robes of state and the numerous orders 
created by that usurper; Hugo de Haselle, who 
provided an alternative origin for the family by 
making his appearance in the army of William the 
Conqueror, clad (vide his portrait painted immedi- 
ately after the battle of Hastings) in a sixteenth- 
century suit of plate armour; and various other 
interesting examples of a forgotten school. 

Then as he went along the line he passed faces 
that gradually began to assume a certain indefinable 
likeness to each other and to his early recollections 
of his father — and even, once or twice, to a coun- 
tenance he had frequently studied under the razor. 
There was no need to substantiate these from the 
family tree. 

All this time his guide had been musing at a de- 
cent distance. In spite of her prejudice there was a 
certain baffling sense of mystery in the secretary’s 
conversation that attracted her insidiously; so much 
so that she was tempted to break the silence. 

“Are any of these like the present Duke?” she 
asked. 

“ I seem to see the ancestors of some of his 
Grace’s virtues,” said the secretary. 


204 


THE DUKE 


“ Is it the wigs or the self-sufficiency he has in- 
herited? ” she said. “ I never saw people who 
looked so pleased with themselves,” she added, 
glancing round on the portraits. 

“ Don’t you think they have reason? ” 

“ Every reason. I suppose there is not one here 
who has ever put on his own clothes.” 

“ Or who hasn’t made a fool of a woman or 
ruined a man,” added Lambert. 

She glanced at him curiously, but only asked if 
he had seen enough. He answered that he had. 

“ I suppose you will now give your report? ” she 
said. 

“ Not quite yet. I must see Mrs. Gaye first.” 

To this Marjorie replied with a dignity that she 
thought would settle the question — 

“ As the Duke is coming so soon, she would pre- 
fer to see him personally.” 

“ I shall do just as well.” 

“ She had rather deal with the Duke.” 

“ Then she will have to wait.” 

“ She is in no hurry.” 

“ The Duke is.” 

“ Let him write to her, then.” 

The secretary seemed a little put about. He 
considered for a minute, and then answered — 


THE DUKE 


205 

“ I think Mrs. Gaye will change her mind when 
I see her.” 

“ She would rather not see you, so you don’t need 
to stay on our account.” 

“ The devil I don’t,” thought the secretary. 
Aloud he replied, “ I must on the Duke’s, however. 
In fact, I shall have to inflict myself upon you 
here.” 

“ Here ! ” exclaimed Marjorie. 

“ If you will be kind enough to prepare a room, 
I’ll have my luggage sent from the inn.” 

“ But ” she gasped, “ my mother doesn’t 

expect ” 

“ I am sorry to disturb her,” interrupted the sec- 
retary imperturbably, “ but I assure you the Duke 
wishes it.” 

He went away and left her thinking. Then she 
was shortly going to entertain a real live duke! 
For all her resentment towards the noble family, 
there was something not unpleasing in the prospect. 
Certainly the secretary must now be kept at bay till 
his Grace arrived. Grandon was not a name she 
had learned to love, but after all his Grace might 
be quite different from Duke Francis and those 
insolent portraits. 

The secretary had run him down, but then there 


206 


THE DUKE 


was something unfathomable about the secretary. 
She refused to believe him; his Grace would be 
generous and amiable and magnanimous, and 
everything would end happily, and perhaps he 
would say to her, Miss Gaye, I must compliment 

you upon But at this point she remembered 

that first of all much must be done before his seat 
was ready for his Grace’s reception. And she 
would do it every bit herself; which suggested to 
her busy mind the most excellent scheme for keep- 
ing the secretary out of the house in the meantime, 
or at least making him ashamed of himself if he 
stayed. 

She had yet to learn that the line of intractable 
Haselles was far from extinct. 


CHAPTER V 


T he reputed Duke of Grandon lay in bed sleepily 
watching a clean-shaved, silent man prepare 
his Grace’s wardrobe for the morning. The Lon- 
don sunshine streamed into the room, and it 
seemed to the Duke that it looked more cheerful 
than usual. Then he suddenly awoke to the fact 
that his secretary was even now north of the border, 
rattling further and further away from him every 
moment he thought of it. The brake was off the 
wheels at last, and he could run downhill as fast 
and festively as he chose. He was Duke indeed. 

“ Begad ! ” he exclaimed, “ ’Tis an uncommon 
fine morning, Joice.” 

His valet looked up in scarcely concealed sur- 
prise, for Joice was not accustomed to find his mas- 
ter in such good-humour at this early hour of the 
day. 

“ Yes, your Grace, huncommon fine.” 

“ It’s time I was out looking for the early 
worrums, begad ! ” 


207 


2o8 


THE DUKE 


“ Is your Grace ready to be shaved? ” 

(His Grace was invariably shaved in bed. “ To 
remind me be contrast of the happy Walleroo days,” 
as he had told Lambert in the first flush of his new 
dignity.) 

‘‘ Right ye are. Fire away ! ’’ cried the Duke. 

It seemed to the experienced Joice that there 
must either be a fortunate speculation in his Grace's 
memory or a lady in prospect. 

During the whole operation his Grace hummed 
the melodies of his native land with the cheeriest 
air possible, and even this did not suffice to express 
his light-heartedness. 

Do ye happen to see any change on me dressing 
table? " he inquired as soon as his valet had fin- 
ished. 

Yes, your Grace." 

How much may there be? " 

In his silent, velvet-pawed way Joice rapidly 
counted it. 

‘‘ Two pounds, eleven shillings, and four-pence, 
your Grace." 

Take it away with ye ! This is me birthday — 
or maybe it's yours — or anyhow it's time ye stood 
your friends something ! " 

A few minutes later the report was running 


THE DUKE 


209 


through the servants’ hall that the announcement 
of his Grace’s approaching nuptials might be hourly 
expected. 

Meanwhile his Grace was making a calculation. 

“ Only ten days more to run,” he said to himself 
with a start, and then with true Hibernian philoso- 
phy added the cheerful rider, “ And what does that 
matter? It’s not the time ye have to spend, begad, 
it’s the way ye spend it. I’ll undertake to get as 
much into a summer’s night as some of them will 
manage in a year ! ” 

There was only one cloud on his happiness; that 
beggarly trifle of an extra £1,000 went a very little 
way towards patching the hole he had already made 
in his pocket. 

“ It’s easy,” he reflected, “ devilish easy. I just 
have to write a cheque, and there’s no one will ask 
a question. Lambert’s asking me not to means 
he’s done nothing to prevent it. He’s no more no- 
tion of business — than I have meself, begad ! ” 

And then by the most logical sequence of ideas, 
he said to himself — 

“ And what does he mean be expecting me to 
keep accounts and look after things when he’d 
never do it himself? And there’s Sir Pursuivant — 
if he’s satisfied surely Lambert may be.” 


210 


THE DUKE 


And yet even his Grace felt conscious that there 
was a step wanting between this deduction and 
drawing on his friend’s account. He must try it 
another way. 

“ Didn’t Lambert tell me to do justice to me dig- 
nity? Arid was there ever a jook before with such 
a beggarly allowance? Be George, if he was here 
he’d see it for himself. But it’s hardly worth writ- 
ing to explain. I’ll just see how things turn out. 
And anyhow there’s devil a creditor will see the 
colour of my coin. What’s the use in being 
a jook if it’s not that people will wait for their 
money? ” 

And having made this satisfactory resolution, his 
Grace arranged his tie with exemplary care. 

Before his toilet was quite completed. Lord 
Roulett was announced. 

“ Now what the deuce has brought him round 
so early,” he wondered. “ It can’t be that trifle of 
£50 I’m owing him. Roulett’s not the man to 
bother about a bagatelle like that, surely.” 

His Lordship set his fears at rest immediately. 

“ ’Fraid you’ll think this an early call, Grandon,” 
he said, with his engaging heartiness. “ Fact is I 
heard last night your secretary was leaving you, 
and I wondered if there was a row or anythin’, so 


THE DUKE 


2II 


I thought I’d look in and make kind inquiries after 
Mr. What’s-his-name. Ha, ha ! ” 

The fact was that as soon as his wife had heard 
of this event she had sent him post-haste to the 
swept and garnished house. 

“ Oh, it’s nothing at all, I assure ye,” replied his 
Grace regally. “ He was just getting a little in the 
way, d’ye see, so I sent him away for a change of 
air.” 

“ Do him good,” laughed his Lordship. “ Hope 
he stays away, by Jove ! ” 

He then began to express his fears lest his friend 
should find himself lonely in all these acres of empty 
apartments. 

“ True for you,” his Grace agreed. “ I’m free to 
confess me house is rather on the spacious side for 
a solitary jook.” 

“ Then,” suggested his Lordship, “ why not fill 
it?” 

His Grace jumped at the suggestion. 

“ I’ll get in some of the boys, be George, and 
once there’s a few good Christians assembled, we’ll 
paint Grandon House as red as a herring, sir ! ” 

As soon as his Grace had breakfasted they went 
out to seek Lord Crysanthemus Stagger. 

That aristocratic decadent was found in bed. 


212 


THE DUKE 


His rooms were adorned with all the subtlety of the 
latest phase in perverted art. His own fair head 
and colourless features were propped up on a pile 
of pillows, and he was whiling away the dreary 
hours before luncheon and life began by studying 
the works of one of a much-admired modern school 
of artists — some Montenegran or Nova Zemblian 
author of repute. 

“ Ah, Roulett ! and, ah — the Duke of Grandon 
himself ! ” he cried with the most charming air in 
London. “ I have been reflecting for six hours 
upon the degeneration of the impossible, and where 
I shall lunch.” 

“ Never ye mind the impossible, Crissy, me boy,” 
replied the Duke, “ but come and lunch with me.” 

“ Grandon’s done the impossible, ha, ha ! ” add- 
ed Lord Roulett. “ He’s got rid of his secretary.” 

“ My best congratulations ! ” exclaimed the deca- 
dent. “ My dear Grandon, I have seen that man in 
the most unbecoming trousers in Europe! But 
for our absurd modern notions of decency I should 
have removed them on the spot. 

“ First time I ever heard of notions o’ decency 
interfering with you, Crissy,” laughed Lord Rou- 
lett. “ Get up and come to Grandon House ! ” 

“ And bring your man and your luggage,” added 


THE DUKE 


213 


his Grace. “ You’re coming to stay with me, me 
boy.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Lord Crysanthemus; as with the air 
of one who had long outlived the trifling emotions 
of surprise or curiosity, “ I am then to replace Mr. 
Ka — Ka — not Cavendish, I know? I shall add up 
your accounts and write your menus so that no 
woman will venture to show them to her daugh- 
ters.” 

“ I believe ye ! ” laughed the Duke. “ We’ll 
have the liveliest time ye ever knew.” 

Hardly had his Grace and his Lordship reached 
the street again, when they perceived two very 
fashionably attired young men coming towards 
them. One had a vivacious countenance and moved 
his knees and elbows as he walked as though he 
were not quite certain whether he was on horseback 
or on foot. The other was extremely swarthy, with 
an expression of extraordinary self-satisfaction and 
a lurid eye. 

” Teddy Lumme, be George ! ” exclaimed his 
Grace. “ The very man I was wanting to see. 
Who’s this he’s got with him? ” 

“ Count Sancho Polo, of the Peruvian Embassy,” 
said his Lordship. 

The young gentleman with the vivacious counte- 


214 


THE DUKE 


nance hailed them hilariously, and presented his 
friend Count Sancho Polo to his Grace of Grandon. 

I was just' saying you were the very man 1 
wanted to see, Teddy,” said the Duke. Pm hav- 
ing a little house-warming. Gome and stay with 
me.” 

Delighted,” replied Mr. Lumme, with no affec- 
tation of indifference. For the night? ” 

As long as ye please. The house is open now. 
And you, my dear Count, ye'll come tod? Til take 
no denial, me boy; Fve room for an army.” 

Count Sancho Polo had already heard so much 
about his Grace's peculiarly open disposition that 
this invitation surprised him less than one might 
expect. 

I am sure, Duke, I vill be charmed,” he smiled 
and bowed. ‘‘ It vill be for de greatest pleasure.” 

‘‘ Come in time for lunch, both of ye. We're 
going to begin as we mean to continue ! ” 

And who will we get next? ” said the Duke as 
they proceeded on their way. 

“ Hooky Jones, what? ” suggested Lord Rou- 
lett. 

The very man ! Let's try his club.” 

Captain Hooky ” Jones was discovered at his 
club. He was a middle-aged man about town, who 


THE DUKE 


215 


passed for ten years younger, with a sharp military 
manner, a great readiness to oblige a prosperous 
friend, and a doubtful reputation in drawing-rooms. 

“ Thanks. Uncommon good of you. Time for 
lunch? Right; I’ll be there. What’ll you drink? ” 
said the Captain in a breath when he heard the in- 
vitation. 

“ Usual thing,” replied the Duke. “ Small 
soda.” 

“ Care to play anything? ” asked the Captain. 

“ ’Fraid we haven’t time this morning,” said his 
Lordship, who was now anxious to get his Grace 
home again safely. 

But the Duke was in an ever expanding humour 
of hospitality, and his friend soon began to fear lest 
the house party should become too heterogeneous 
to manage. 

The slightest acquaintance had only to nod to 
him, and, provided the Duke considered him “ the 
right sort ” of person, he was instantly invited. If 
he had a friend with him, the friend was included. 

“ I say,” expostulated his Lordship, as he led him 
at last back to Grandon House, “ you’ve asked a 
deuce of a lot of men.” 

“ The more the merrier ! ” 

“ But there’s one or two of ’em we hardly 
know.” 


2i6 


THE DUKE 


‘‘ They’re all right; trust me. Not a man of 
them I wouldn’t put up for me club,” said his Grace 
complacently. 

Lord Roulett saw he must make the best of it, 
though he had fully intended that the party should 
be of his own choosing. But if any of them hap- 
pened to be too respectable, it was at all events 
improbable that their visit would be long. 

The party sat down to lunch twelve strong, and 
as his Lordship looked round the table he came to 
the conclusion that, after all, they had not done so 
badly. It was, in fact, as characteristic an assembly 
of smartness unhampered with morality as was to be 
found anywhere in town. 

The Duke’s promise of a lively luncheon was not 
belied. The dishes were beyond reproach, the 
wine above criticism, the conversation frequently 
unrecordable. Small wonder that even Lord Crys- 
anthemus grew enthusiastic, while Lord Roulett 
felt that he had never spent a morning to better 
purpose. 

But the Duke of Grandon was a prize not to be 
won without a struggle. Hardly had the party re- 
paired to the billiard-room, and even as Captain 
Jones was in the act of distributing the pool balls, 
when a servant entered with a card, and presented it 
to his Grace. 


THE DUKE 


217 


“ Her ladyship wishes to see your Grace particu- 
lar,” he added in a mysterious voice as if this mes- 
sage had been strongly impressed upon him. 

“ Who is with her? ” 

“ Miss Stock, your Grace.” 

“ Miss Julia?” 

“ Yes, your Grace.” 

The Duke hesitated, glanced round the room, 
and then as he saw Lord Roulett’s back turned to 
choose a cue, he fairly bolted from his guests. 


CHAPTER VI 


'^HAT same morning the Right Honourable 
^ John Stock, M.P., surprised his family by 
coming home for lunch. He was in a prodigious 
bustle, as became one of her Majesty’s ministers 
quitting his duty for a hurried interlude, and it was 
evident that only some occasion of importance 
could have brought him away at all. 

Why, here’s papa ! ” cried the girls. What 
is the matter? Do tell us ! ” 

My dears, don’t worry your father,” said their 
mother, with gracious, yet sufficient, emphasis. 
‘‘ It is nothing serious I trust, my love? ” 

Mr. Stock sat down to lunch with an air of hav- 
ing tidings to tell that he hardly knew how to 
broach. 

‘‘ No bad news from the House? ” inquired his 
wife. 

‘‘Tut, tut! No, no. Nothing of the kind. I 
only thought that, having a few minutes to spare, 
I had better tell you — that is, it might interest you 
218 


THE DUKE 


219 


to know — in fact, my dear, your young relative is 
making an ass of himself, and it’s time it was 
stopped.” 

“ Which relative? ” cried the fair Julia, though 
her tender heart already told her who it must be. 
“ Not ? ” 

“ The Duke,” said her father, with asperity. “ I 
really shall lose my confidence in his Grace if he 
conducts himself in this fashion.” 

“ Why, what has he done? ” asked the Lady 
Georgiana, with her set smile that, however, de- 
ceived none of her family. 

“ Old Haverton informed me only half an hour 
ago he had learned from Debrette, who of course 
gets the news of the clubs before any one, that the 
Duke has sacked his secretary ” 

“ Thank goodness ! ” ejaculated Lady Georgi- 
ana. 

“ It would have been better if he had kept him, 
my dear, rather than take the preposterous and al- 
most criminally reckless course he has since thought 
fit to pursue ” 

“ Papa ! ” cried Julia, “ I’m sure he hasn’t done 
anything as bad as all that.” 

“ He has been round this morning with Rou- 
lett 


220 


THE DUKE 


“ Ah ! ” interjected Lady Georgiana, her smile 
becoming terribly bland. 

“ And can you imagine what they have done — 
at Roulett’s instigation, I fear? ” 

“ Of course it was ! ” said Maria, with the can- 
dour of privileged youth. 

“ They have collected all the riff-raff of the fast- 
est sets and invited them to take up their abode — 
their permanent abode I am assured ! — in Grandon 
House. That’s a nice morning’s work for one of 
the most distinguished of our hereditary legisla- 
tors!” 

“ It is shameful ! It is scandalous ! ” said Lady 
Georgiana. “ Roulett is the most unprincipled 
man in London ! ” 

Her daughters listened in silence. They had 
never before heard their mother so outspoken on 
the subject of their uncle. Mr. Stock gulped down 
a glass of claret and half a pate to soothe his nerves. 

“ Can Sir Pursuivant do nothing to prevent this 
scandal? ” his wife asked after an indignant pause. 

“ I fear not, my dear. Haverton tells me he act- 
ually appears agitated by the mortification he nat- 
urally feels; but the Duke is unfortunately very 
headstrong.” 

“ If he could only be got away from — from ” 

Julia hesitated. 


THE DUKE 


221 


‘‘ Say from your uncle/’ said her mother; and 
then she added, ‘‘ It is our duty to do something.” 

Certainly, my dear,” her husband assented. 

‘‘ Couldn’t we ” began Julia. 

Yes, my love? ” 

Couldn’t we get him to come to Ranelagh with 
us this afternoon? He did say something to me 
about coming.” 

You might try,” said Mr. Stock. 

‘‘ We shall try,” pronounced Lady Georgiana. 

That was why the Duke never began his game of 
pool. Though he had previously put his head in 
water, he felt as he entered the drawing-room very 
much like a man who has lunched. He also felt, 
in spite of his exhortations to himself, a little like 
a criminal caught in the act. But it was not Lady 
Georgiana’s cue to greet him with even a semblance 
of reproof. She was more cousinly, more gracious 
than ever, and as for Julia, she was wearing the 
divinest frock his Grace had ever seen. 

‘‘We have come to remind you of a rash promise 
you made, Duke.” 

“ I’m delighted — that’s to say I’m honoured,” 
replied his Grace, with a desperate effort to keep his 
wits clear. 

“ Of course you’ve forgotten all about it? Ah! 


222 


THE DUKE 


that comes of having too many friends! Do you 
know that you told Julia you would come with us to 
Ranelagh this afternoon? ’’ 

“ Have you forgotten? ’’ smiled Julia. 

Forgotten! Could I ever forget it? Only — 
well the fact is some friends of mine have come to 
lunch at the most unfortunate moment.’’ 

‘‘ So I heard,” said Lady Georgiana blandly. 
‘‘ But we hoped luncheon might be over.” 

She smiled as sweetly on him as ever, but behind 
the smile his Grace seemed to feel, if not a threat, 
at least a warning. He had a great respect for 
Lady Georgiana, a respect that made him occasion- 
ally avoid her society and always feel a little inse- 
cure when he was in it. 

‘‘ Won’t you come, then? ” said Julia sweetly. 

‘‘ Certainly. I’ll follow ye in five minutes.” 

‘‘ Our carriage is at the door,” said Lady Geor- 
giana. “ Let us take you. We can wait for five 
minutes.” 

His Grace hesitated. 

Couldn’t you leave a message for your 
friends? ” 

Be George, that’s what I’ll do ! I’ll be with 
you in two minutes.” 

In fact his Grace displayed as much haste in leav- 


THE DUKE 


223 


ing his guests as he had shown in inviting them, 
and by the time he was seated in the carriage facing 
the fair Julia he had almost forgotten their exist- 
ence. On their way, Lady Georgiana talked to him 
with the most motherly and kindly air, and Julia 
with the most fascinating expressions of her eyes 
and lips of which she was mistress. When they 
arrived, the disinterested mother quickly found an 
opportunity of letting the two young people wan- 
der oflf by themselves, and as she watched them 
disappear among the well-dressed crowd, she felt 
that however her brother-in-law had abused the 
morning, she at least had made good use of the 
afternoon. 

But the fair Julia was destined to make even bet- 
ter. Her innocent heart could scarcely be expect- 
ed to divine that the unusual tenderness in his 
Grace’s manner had any connection with the ex- 
cellence of his luncheon; but the tenderness itself 
was too patent to be unnoticed even by the chastest 
eye. Ducal affection is undoubtedly contagious, 
they say; and certainly there entered her bosom 
the most delicate sentiment. It was this very deli- 
cacy that prompted her to shun the throng, so that 
in a short time they found themselves as far apart 
from the world as one can get in that fashionable 
resort. 


224 


THE DUKE 


“ Here’s a seat,” said his Grace, and there was a 
world of meaning in the accent he laid upon the 
phrase. 

Julia could sink into as becoming an attitude as 
any unmarried woman in London; her dress was 
perfect; her hat perfection overpassed; her ears 
attuned to most of the meanings a man can imply, 
and her tongue quick to make exactly the right re- 
sponse; while his Grace was susceptible, impetuous, 
and just arisen from the table. One of her arms 
was stretched out, the hand propped upon her par- 
asol; and fate had ordained that it should be the 
hand next him. 

Only half a dozen sentences, ragged in form but 
softened by accent, had been exchanged, when 
Julia was startled to feel the weight of the ducal 
hand pressing upon hers. 

“ Julia ! ” he murmured. 

“ Your Grace ! ” she answered in a tone of re- 
proof so cadenced as to remind without wounding. 
At the same time she endeavoured to withdraw her 
hand; but as that would have let the parasol fall to 
the ground, and as in such bewildering circum- 
stances she could scarcely be expected to remember 
that this disaster might be averted by first grasping 
the handle firmly, she did no more than indicate the 
gesture. 


THE DUKE 225 

But his Grace was not to be dismayed by indica- 
tions. 

“ Ye are as lovely as a sunbeam,” he whispered. 

“ Oh, your Grace,” she smiled, still reprovingly. 

“Julia, why do ye call me that?” he asked re- 
proachfully. “ Sure, I’m not your Grace to you ! ” 

“ You ought to be,” she answered, looking down. 

“ Am I no more than that? ” 

“ What — what would you be? ” 

His Grace had hardly been prepared to answer so 
specific an inquiry, but his rule of life had always 
been to escape from a dilemma by the easiest road. 
Besides, she was looking wonderfully handsome. In 
fact, at this most exciting crisis in her life Julia her- 
self had the presence of mind to half regret the ab- 
sence of an audience; she was conscious that she 
was bearing herself so well. 

“ The happy man who’d call ye me own,” he said. 

Even then she still hung fire, and that moment of 
suspense completed the conquest. He waited, and 
then he asked impetuously — 

“ Will ye take me, Julia? ” 

The maidenly reluctance melted; the word was 
said, and the Rubicon crossed. A marriage had 
been arranged between the Duke of Grandon and 
Julia, eldest daughter of the Right Honourable 
John Stock, M.P. 


226 


THE DUKE 


And now for the first time his Grace began to 
reflect on this new venture, and another aspect of 
the question forced itself upon him with unpleasant 
pertinacity. The simplest way must again be fol- 
lowed. 

‘‘ Julia, me love,’’ he whispered (they were sitting 
very close to one another by this time) can ye 
keep a secret? ” 

‘‘ I’ll try,” she smiled. ‘‘ What is it? ” 

Ye mustn’t say a word about our engagement 
just for a day or two.” 

She raised her eyebrows. 

For how long? ” she asked, with a charming 
pout. 

Say ten days. Ten days from to-day, mind. 
Can ye keep a secret as long as that? ” 

‘‘ If you really wish it. But won’t you tell me 
why? ” 

His Grace assumed a dramatically serious ex- 
pression. 

‘‘ There’s a dark secret hanging like a sword 
above me head. I’ll say no names, but there’s a 
man who’d blast your happiness, me darling, if he 
heard of it.” 

‘‘Your secretary?” she cried, with a quick in- 
stinct. 


THE DUKE 


227 


“The same,” said the Duke; “ he’s a dangerous 
man, I tell ye, and a power of mischief he could do 
us if we aren’t careful. So, me angel, ye’ll be as 
quiet as the dream of beauty ye are, will ye? ” 

“ But what harm can he do? ” asked Julia, now 
getting seriously alarmed. 

“ Me foolish generosity lent him the means to 
turn and bite me hand,” his Grace explained 
darkly. 

“ And will it really be safe in ten days? ” 

“ His tooth will then be drawn, me love, and ye’ll 
be free as the wind to do what ye please.” 

With this perfectly accurate if somewhat mis- 
leading promise, poor Julia was forced to remain 
content, though it certainly threw a shadow over 
her happiness to think that for ten days she must 
hug her triumph to herself, unenvied and uncon- 
gratulated. Still, this sense of mystery enhanced 
in one way the fascinations of her lover. Return- 
ing the pressure of his hand more tenderly, she 
whispered — 

“ Oh, Grandon, how anxious I shall be ! ” And 
then she added archly, “ I can’t call you Grandon 
all the time. Isn’t there anything just a little, 
weeny bit humbler, for me to use? ” 

“ Me seraph ! ” sighed his Grace. “ What will 
please ye best? ” 


228 


THE DUKE 


‘‘ Your first name is Lambert, isn’t it? ” 

The Duke perceptibly started. No one had en- 
tered into the question of his private, untitled name 
before, and he had quite forgotten that with the 
dukedom he had borrowed everything that be- 
longed to the Duke. He was not specially sensi- 
tive, but at that moment he felt he had scarcely the 
face to answer to Lambert. He hesitated, and 
Julia misinterpreted the pause. 

Are you offended? ” she asked in a voice that 
would have surely disarmed anger had there been 
any. 

Offended? All ye could say in a day wouldn’t 
offend me so long as I could look at your face. It’s 
not that; it’s just that I haven’t been accustomed 
to answer to Lambert since I was the length of your 
parasol, and then me father only used it when he 
meant business with his slipper. It would just re- 
call painful memories, me love.” 

‘‘ What were you called? ” she asked. 

I just answered to Jack. Call me Jack.” 

‘‘ Jack ! ” she whispered; and it seemed to his per- 
spiring Grace that he had come wonderfully well 
through a highly delicate affair; also that another 
time he had better allow a longer interval between 
Ivmch and flirtation. 


CHAPTER VII 


T N London the great secret of the matrimonial 
* season was a day old, the world was dressing 
for another dinner, and Miss Julia Stock, as she 
arrayed herself with the rest, smiled triumphantly 
at her fair reflection; while far in the north, beyond 
even the rumour of these famous doings. Lady 
Georgiana's governess was desperately endeavour- 
ing to drive the real Duke out of his own domains. 
Many things inspired her in the contest. Her 
mother’s distress had increased with every hour she 
spent shut up in her room. It is true she only 
needed a firm front to defy inquiry, but then she 
had no firmness, and if she had, this inquisitor had 
the power to punish with or without confession. 
And she wrung her hands till Marjorie was con- 
vinced in her heart that some very real danger 
threatened them. The more she pushed her ques- 
tions, the vaguer Mrs. Gaye became, and so she was 
only left with that most dismal companjr, a fore- 
boding. 


229 


230 


THE DUKE 


Their hopes both clung to the coming of the 
Duke in person — Mrs. Gaye’s because it postponed 
the hour; Marjorie’s because it changed the man. 
There was something in the coolness and persist- 
ency of the secretary that daunted her spirits for 
all she might declare. And then for an instant she 
would catch a kindlier glance, and these at once 
she put down to pity, and knew not whether more 
to resent the feeling or tremble at the thought of 
the calamity that could call it up. 

Then again she felt she had been challenged, and 
she was as ready to pick up a glove as any knight- 
errant. Years and experience had not yet come to 
teach her that a woman’s weapons are not a lance 
in rest and a frowning brow behind a helmet’s vizor, 
but smiles and flags of truce and ambuscades, and 
at last consoling honours of war for her captive if 
she conquers or a loopholed treaty should she fail. 
She was prepared to resist as defiantly as though 
she were chatelaine of the castle four centuries ago 
and the foe a raiding Highland chief. 

Finally, the honour of her family was threatened. 

When, upon his first coming to stay there, Lam- 
bert walked up from the village in the evening, and 
the ponderous door swung open on his ring, he 
recognised in the cap and apron of a housemaid 


THE DUKE 


231 


none other than his late intractable guide. She 
had rehearsed the scene so frequently in her mind 
that she was able to preserve as grave a counte- 
nance as she had at her command. He stared, but 
without a word she led him to the library. 

‘‘ The whole castle is at your disposal,’’ she said, 
except my mother’s room and mine. Will you 
need those too? ” 

‘‘ The rest of the castle will do,” said Lambert. 
Are you turning out of the library? ” 

'' There is no one to use it. My mother is still 
unwell, and I shall have to be busy.” 

Housekeeping? ” he asked. 

Working,” she replied. ‘‘ We have no servant 
except one country girl, who is quite unable to at- 
tend to visitors. Since we are to have the pleasure 
of your company, you must put up with what I can 
do for you.” 

If she looked for signs of immediate shame or 
embarrassment, she was doomed to disappointment. 
The secretary merely replied — 

‘‘ It seems unnecessary, but I suppose you know 
best. I shall give you as little trouble as possible, 
and you can keep this room for your own use. But 
in the meantime I must stay somewhere in the 
house.” 


232 


THE DUKE 


I have told you I shall have no time to use any 
room/’ said she. I must have things ready for 
the Duke. He is really coming very soon? ” 

‘^Very soon. Mrs. Gaye insists upon dealing 
only with him? ” 

Certainly.” 

Very well,” he said. Then if you think it 
best you can get things ready and I’ll tell you what 
to do to-morrow.” 

‘‘ I think I know,” she replied very coldly. 

The Duke, as I’ve told you, is eccentric,” said 
the secretary. ‘‘ You will be the better of my ad- 
vice.” 

As she was leaving the room he asked — 

‘‘ You and Mrs. Gaye really insist on this ar- 
rangement? ” 

We have no choice,” she said, and hurried out 
in time to brush a tear of sheer anger from her 
eye. 

The secretary thought of the night twenty-six 
years ago, and hardened his heart. 

In the morning she brought him breakfast and 
he ate it alone, looking out from his chair through 
a narrow window upon the shining sea between the 
boughs of trees. Afterwards he met her in the 
hall. 


THE DUKE 


233 


“ What do you wish done here? ” she asked. 

“ It needs nothing,” he answered. 

“Wouldn’t you like the floor scrubbed?” she 
asked ironically. As a matter of fact the Gayes 
prided themselves on the sombre specklessness of 
this ancient apartment. 

“ It might be as well,” he said. 

In each room they came to she had some Her- 
culean task to propose, and to each suggestion he 
agreed. At the end she asked — 

“ How long have we to do all this in? ” 

“ I have told you,” he said, “ that the Duke may 
appear at any time.” 

“ But you don’t know exactly when? ” 

“ He will probably consult me first.” 

Marjorie’s heart began to sink. Then suddenly 
she asked — 

“ You mean he won’t come till everything is 
ready? ” 

“ It isn’t likely.” 

“ I’ll have it all done in two days ! ” she said to 
herself. 

But when the secretary came in from a walk that 
afternoon it hardly looked as though a week would 
make much impression upon the programme of 
work they had arranged. The hall floor had been 


234 


THE DUKE 


taken first, and not more than a third of it was done. 
On the borderland between the scrubbed and un- 
scrubbed territory was Marjorie upon her knees 
working with feverish energy. She was pale by 
then with sheer fatigue; her breath was coming and 
going very fast, and her hands were already omi- 
nously red. 

The sight almost swept Lambert’s resolution 
away; but he had not sprung from the stock of the 
hard Haselles for nothing. He contained himself 
and thought — 

“ If she wants to play the fool, what have I to do 
with it? The business must be settled.” 

For a minute he stood collecting his thoughts, 
and then said — 

Why are you doing this, Miss Gaye? ” 

Marjorie looked up and saw him for the first 
time. 

‘‘ There is no one else,” she answered, trying to 
breathe as evenly as she could. 

You have a servant.” 

‘‘ She has too much to do already.” 

I shall get help from the village.” 

‘‘ Not while we are here ! ” she exclaimed. 

Very well,” he answered, and went away. 

Yet when he came to think of it, it seemed mere 


THE DUKE 


235 


cruelty to prolong this one-sided campaign. The 
matter could be settled by letter and he could leave 
Dunwishart before that girl had another chance to 
wring him with her useless spirit. They would 
part still foes, which he scarcely liked to think of; 
but after all that came in the day’s work. 

He sat and thought and thought, and recalled 
everything and debated it all till evening had come. 
Then at last he v/rote — 

“ The Duke of Grandon begs to place the follow- 
ing proposition before Mrs. Gaye. Twenty-six 
years ago the Duke’s father, Mr. Walter Haselle, 
was irreparably ruined in fortune and character by 
a conspiracy in which Mrs. Gaye was concerned. 
The Duke is willing to believe that she erred with- 
out premeditation, but he thinks she will see that 
some reparation, however tardy, is due to the mem- 
ory of Mr. Haselle on the part of those who injured 
him. He begs Mrs. Gaye to consider the infamy 
which such a fault as his father was accused of at- 
taches to the good fame of a gentleman, and, as Mr. 
Haselle’s only son, asks her to give him this satis- 
faction — that she will furnish him with a written 
admission of the true facts of the case. The Duke 
undertakes not to publish this openly, nor to make 
any use of it that he can possibly avoid, so that so 


236 


THE DUKE 


far as he can ensure, the reputations of all concerned 
may remain undisturbed. He reserves to himself, 
however, the right of showing it to any old friends 
of his father and others whose good opinion he 
considers his father would wish to regain were he 
alive. In such cases he will make a point of re- 
questing that the matter be there and then buried 
and not referred to again. If Mrs. Gaye will write 
this admission and hand it to the Duke’s secretary, 
the Duke will consider himself obliged if Mrs. Gaye 
will accept from him the legacy which the late Duke 
omitted to leave her in his will. His secretary is 
empowered to arrange this. He will also esteem it 
a favour if her daughter will permit him to make 
a similar arrangement with regard to her. He is 
sure that the late Duke intended this to be done. 

‘‘ Should Mrs. Gaye decline to accede to this re- 
quest, the Duke will consider himself bound to take 
all possible steps to vindicate his father’s memory. 
He trusts, however, that this will be unnecessary, 
and that before it becomes too late Mrs. Gaye will 
take this opportunity of doing justice to one who 
can no longer speak for himself. 

‘‘ The Duke will be obliged if Mrs. Gaye com- 
municates her reply to his secretary as soon as pos- 
sible.” 


THE DUKE 


237 


He sealed this up, and last thing that night 
handed it to Marjorie. She looked suspiciously 
first at the letter and then at the secretary. 

“ It is simply on business? ” she asked. 

“ Simply.” 

“ The Duke’s business? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ But I have told you my mother prefers to see 
the Duke personally.” 

“ This will hasten matters.” 

“ Do you mean that it will do instead of seeing the 
Duke? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then he was coming on purpose to see her? ” 
she exclaimed. 

There was no avoiding the logic of this, so Lam- 
bert had to answer — 

“ Yes.” 

“ Very well,” said Marjorie, “ I shall give it to 
her.” To herself she added, “ After she has seen 
the Duke. As if I were going to worry her for 
nothing.” 

So she took the letter to her room, and in the 
true spirit of battle locked it up as contraband of 
war. 

“ One way or the other it will be settled,” thought 


238 the duke 

Lambert that night. ‘‘ Mrs. Gaye must choose 
now.’' 

On the next morning Marjorie avoided his so- 
ciety altogether, till at last he had to go and seek 
her where she was labouring amid the dust of a 
hoary bedroom. 

‘‘ Has Mrs. Gaye decided upon her answer? ” he 
asked. 

She prefers to deal with the Duke directly,” 
she said. 

She will give no answer to my letter? ” 

No.” 

‘‘ You gave it her? ” 

Is there anything else you suspect me of? ” she 
replied. 


There was still exactly a week to run before he 
considered himself free to appear as the Duke of 
Grandon, and for the first time he felt a keen im- 
patience to take the reins. When he came from 
the new world it had seemed to him that there was 
nothing to be done but the farce of sitting on a box 
in a stable-yard, and he had cheerfully let another 
play the part; but now he saw that even in this old 
world there were real horses to drive and a road 


THE DUKE 


239 


leading somewhere. He felt the sweet odour of 
power in his nostrils, and it whetted his appetite. 

As the days passed and he went about his terri- 
tories that stretched for many miles along the coast 
and many leagues inland, and looked down from 
hill-tops upon no acre that he did not own, and 
talked to his people, long neglected by the lords 
of the soil, his impatience increased and the imperi- 
ous spirit of a ruler strengthened. He went out 
to sea with the fishers and on the hills with the 
keepers and shepherds, and the little old world 
grew wider. With that girl slaving uselessly all 
day, he hardly cared to be much in the house, nor 
could he banish the picture of her when he was 
abroad. Each day he had obstinately made up his 
mind that an answer would be forthcoming and the 
blind resistance cease; yet the days passed and no 
answer came. 

Sometimes the people in the neighbourhood 
gossiped to him about her, and in this way he 
learned what her business had been. When he was 
indoors they occasionally exchanged a few words 
in a half-friendly way, like sentinels from two hos- 
tile camps, and so one day he said to her — 

You live with Lady Georgiana Stock, I hear.’’ 

‘‘ I once did,” she replied. 


240 


THE DUKE 


Aren’t you going back? ” 

She doesn’t want me.” 

Sacked? ” he asked in his direct fashion. 

How many places could you be in at the same 
time? I can only be in one, and I prefer to stay 
here.” 

Is it necessary? ” 

Oh, not at all,” she answered sarcastically. 

You could have cooked and my mother scrubbed 
the floors. I stayed naturally for the pleasure of 
your society.” 

Then I suppose you blame me for losing your 
job?” 

I am not always thinking about you,” she said. 
‘‘ That’s strange, isn’t it? ” Then throwing him her 
most defiant smile, she left him. 

He took the smile and her look to the sea with 
him, and there he decided to try again to end the 
business. When he came back he went to her and 
said — 

Miss Gaye, you are merely wasting your 
strength. Let me have my answer and go.” 

You have had your answer,” she replied. 

Then your mother is determined neither to see 
me nor to write to me? ” 

She is too unwell to see you,” she answered 


THE DUKE 


241 


unblushingly, “ and I have told you she is waiting 
for the Duke to come.” 

“ He will only come when I send for him.” 

“ But the house is almost ready now,” said Mar- 
jorie more stoutly than she felt. 

“ That makes no difference.” 

“ You won’t tell him it is ready? ” 

“ Not till I choose.” 

Marjorie turned her face away; for he must not 
see any but the boldest expression. He lingered 
by her for a moment, and then abruptly walked 
off. 

“ I must write to Sir Pursuivant,” she said to 
herself, “ and ask him to help us. This is being in- 
considerate if anything is.” 

It went sorely against the grain to call in assist- 
ance, but there seemed nothing else for it; and so 
she sat down to appeal to the Baronet. 


CHAPTER VIII 


'^HE days that followed the secretary’s departure 
* from Grandon House were a time of trouble 
for Sir Pursuivant Debrette. Hardly had he be- 
gun to congratulate himself upon the departure of 
that colonial interloper, when, like a puppy escaped 
into a poultry-yard, his Grace of Grandon began to 
play the extraordinary series of pranks that made 
the next ten days remembered for many seasons. 
First, as we have seen, he collected his heterogene- 
ous house party; and to the Baronet’s disgust and 
dismay it began rapidly to increase both in numbers 
and hilarity. Next, he had his celebrated midnight 
chariot race in which the vehicles and horses were 
the miscellaneous contents of his own stables, the 
steeds being draped in white and the chariots in 
scarlet, while the drivers (himself and his guests) 
wore night-shirts and opera hats and the occupants 
of the coaches comprised members of both sexes 
all primed with the priceless tawny port for which 
the cellars of Grandon House were so justly famous. 


242 


THE DUKE 


243 


The event started from the ducal doors and was to 
have finished at a certain hostelry in a respectable 
suburb, though owing to a terrific collision between 
the three leading chariots in the neighbourhood of 
Hyde Park Corner it actually terminated at St. 
George’s Hospital. Then at the heels of this esca- 
pade followed his gigantic Bohemian supper at the 
Hotel Mayonaise, where it was said that a larger 
bill was presented to the host and more glass broken 
than had ever been known since the days of George 
the Fourth. 

The Baronet was helpless to stem the tide. The 
Duke treated his expostulations with light-hearted 
contempt, which at last was scarcely to be distin- 
guished from mere rudeness. Finally, after being 
called “ Old cock,” and advised to get his boots 
stretched — “ where the corn hurts ye, me boy ” — 
he shook the dust of Grandon House of¥ his feet 
and for four days never went near his protege. 

Nor did he get sympathy or help from the very 
people who ought to have supported him. One 
day he met Mr. Stock in his club and though he 
never liked, and in his heart despised, that prosper- 
ous politician, he came across the whole width of 
the largest room on purpose to confer with him. 
As Mr. Stock saw the tall, erect figure approaching 


244 


THE DUKE 


him, with the carefully correct costume that decor- 
ously suggested the turf, and the little bits of side- 
whisker glued to the long clean-shaved counte- 
nance, he unconsciously assumed the expression he 
kept for his less important constituents. For 
nothing that passed in Grandon House escaped the 
Stocks (Joice, the ducal valet, came with a very 
high recommendation from Mr. Stock), and they 
knew that Sir Pursuivant’s influence was under an 
eclipse. 

‘‘ Good morning,” said the Cabinet Minister, 
with just sufficient geniality to confirm his reputa- 
tion for open-mindedness. 

Mornin’,” said the Baronet briefly. 

‘‘ Seen the Duke lately? ” 

The Duke — which Duke?” asked Mr. Stock, 
looking as though he were searching the list of his 
ducal acquaintances. 

‘‘ Duke of Grandon.” 

''Ah, yes, young Grandon; of course. I forgot 
you were specially interested in him. Yes, yes; I 
left him at my house this afternoon.” 

" ’Fraid he’s goin’ a bad mucker,” said the Baro- 
net gloomily. 

"Because he comes to my house? Ha, ha! 
Come Debrette, you’re too hard on us I ” 


THE DUKE 


245 

The Minister laughed genially, but Sir Pursui- 
vant showed no symptom of a smile. 

“ It isn’t that,” he replied quite seriously (for in 
his heart he liked this phase of the Duke’s conduct 
little better than any other). “ It’s the way he’s 
goin’ on with those people he’s bin collectin’ at his 
house. Besides, even his income won’t stand this 
strain. He won’t listen to me.” 

“ Dear me, dear me,” said the Minister, with the 
most conventional pretence of sympathy. 

“ What’s one to do? ” the Baronet asked ab- 
ruptly. 

“ My dear Debrette, young men will be young 
men. Give him his head; give him his head. He’ll 
settle down all right. I’ll keep my eye on him, no 
fear. Got an engagement now. I’m afraid. Good- 
bye.” 

As Mr. Stock’s portly form disappeared, the 
Baronet said to himself sardonically. “ Thinks 
he’s goin’ to collar him now he’s fairly on the loose. 
Wish him luck, but I’ll lay twelve to two against 
it. That colt doesn’t mean settlin’ down in harness 
yet for a while. Twelve to one’s more like the 
odds.” 

Sir Pursuivant was a much shrewder judge of 
men than either the Stock or the Roulett families. 


246 


THE DUKE 


Perhaps they were only too ready to be deceived by 
his Grace’s Hibernian heartiness and adaptability to 
any society he was in; certainly each family thought 
that whatever friendliness he might show towards 
others, they alone really had his affections. The 
house party idea had been a great move for the 
Rouletts, but already, for a cause which will pres- 
ently appear, it was beginning to disperse, and the 
Stocks saw in this the most hopeful omen. On one 
point they were tacitly agreed — neither of them had 
the slightest intention of allowing either secretary 
or Baronet to interfere again. 

Sir Pursuivant quickly divined this, and he drew 
down the corners of his mouth and ruminated on 
the situation. It was a devilish stiff ’un, he said to 
himself, and he actually found himself regretting 
the departure of the secretary. His views on that 
individual began to modify a little; not that he 
could get rid of his suspicions, but then it was cer- 
tainly remarkable that with his departure all sem- 
blance of restraint on the Duke’s part disappeared, 
and the sweeping of the house only resulted in the 
arrival of worse devils. What the deuce could be 
the relation between the two men? the Baronet 
wondered; was the Duke’s wild bout of reckless- 
ness simply the result of despair at being encum- 


THE DUKE 


247 


bered by some terrible incubus of which the secre- 
tary was the embodiment; or did the secretary 
after all serve, like the wasps and midges, some 
mysterious good purpose? He suddenly vowed 
he would have it out with the Duke. He knew 
himself to be by far the more resolute of the two, 
and if he could but get him alone, he thought he 
might squeeze the secret. It was not that he was 
inquisitive — in fact, he was one of the least inquisi- 
tive of men; but he had promised to do his best for 
Frank’s heir, and this piece of jungle must be 
cleared before he could move. 

That very night fortune at last favoured him 
most singularly. He was walking down St. James’ 
Street towards his chambers, when out of a club 
near the top of the street a man emerged with a 
peculiar precipitation that suggested the cycling 
novice who finds a certain degree of speed essential 
for preserving his direction. This gentleman can- 
noned so sharply into the Baronet that for an in- 
stant he almost lost his balance; the next he was 
affectionately clutched by the arm. 

“ Me dear Sir Pursuivant ! ” a familiar voice ex- 
claimed; “ I’m delighted to see ye! Come to me 
house and have a drink.” 

It was indeed his Grace of Grandon, and in an 
expansive humour. 


24B 


THE DUKE 


ril walk along with you” said the Baronet. 
‘‘ Delighted to. Where have you bin? ’’ 

Performing me social duties. The giddy 
throng, sir, the gay multitude ! Living me life, sir, 
as a jook ought. It’s fine sport, me boy, but it has 
its dangers.” 

His Grace shook his head with a suddenly serious 
air, as though he had talked lightly too long. Sir 
Pursuivant emitted what was intended to be a sym- 
pathetic sound, and waited with interest for further 
particulars. 

Pve done it,” said the Duke sadly; ‘‘done it 
again. It’s all right, don’t you know; but it might 
be devilish awkward if they both split. Don’t 
know what I’d do; don’t know, ’pon me word.” 

This mysterious confession excited the Baronet’s 
curiosity still further, but unluckily, instead of being 
content with a grunt, he now committed himself to 
an inquiry. 

“ What’s the matter? ” he asked. 

The Duke looked suspiciously at him as if he 
had suddenly awoken to the presence of some one 
else. 

“ A bagatelle,” he answered, quite gaily again. 
“ A mere incident, sir. Just the sort of thing that 
occurs to any spirited young man — especially 
jooks.” 


THE DUKE 


249 


He walked on for a few paces humming a tune; 
but it quickly became evident that his load of care 
was not to be thrown off so easily. The tune died 
away and presently he began to talk again in the 
same mysterious and mournfully confidential strain. 

‘‘ I returned and tried all me clubs,” he began as 
though he were continuing the same narrative, 
‘‘ but there was devil a man I knew, that’s to say, 
don’t you know, no one I’d stoop to drink with. 
So I sat for a while be meself, and then it was me 
good-fortune to meet yourself, me dear Debrette. 
I’m devilish pleased; I haven’t seen ye for days.” 

No,” said the Baronet briefly. You haven’t.” 

I wonder now will I find Crissy in? ” the Duke 
continued. ‘‘ It’s a terrible thing when your 
friends desert ye, sir; and that’s just what mine are 
at. There’s just Crissy and Teddy Lumme in the 
house now; all the rest have gone; gone, sir, and 
left me.” 

Pleasant as this intelligence was to the Baronet, 
it sounded as inexplicable as his Grace’s previous 
remarks. 

Why have they gone? ” he asked. 

‘‘ Ingratitude, black ingratitude ! ” said his Grace 
dramatically, if somewhat obscurely; and then, 
coming back to a minor key, ‘‘ Me responsibilities 


THE DUKE 


250 

will be the death ol me, Sir Pursuivant; ye can’t be 
a jook on nothing a year, can ye? ” 

Are you trying it? ” the Baronet asked causti- 
cally. 

‘‘ I have me own difficulties, little as ye’d suspect 
it. Ye couldn’t oblige me with a temporary loan, 
could ye? ” 

Sir Pursuivant gasped; but regaining his out- 
ward composure, merely asked, “ How much? ” 
From £50 to £1,000; I’ll leave it to you, sir,” 
said his Grace magnanimously. 

Sir Pursuivant’s face assumed its bleakest expres- 
sion, and his voice its gravest accent. 

‘‘ Your Grace,” he said, though I’m not a rich 
man. I’m not disobligin’ when I can see my way 
to doin’ any good by lendin’ money; but I’m 
hanged if I can now.” 

‘‘ Oh, very well, very well,” said his Grace hastily. 
'' We’ll say no more about it.” 

But without heeding this the Baronet went on — 

‘‘ Who’s bin mismanagin’ your money matters? 
You’ve bin goin’ it pretty strong, I know, but you 
simply can’t have come down to borrowin’ yet. Do 
you know what you’re worth a year? I’ve told 
you before.” 

His Grace was instantly off on another tack. 


THE DUKE 


251 


Ha, ha ! me dear boy,’’ he laughed, I was only 
joking with ye. It was just to line me pockets till 
to-morrow.” 

As the hour was now close on midnight, a thou- 
sand pounds seemed to the Baronet a tolerably 
warm lining for the time specified. 

Has your secretary bin doin’ anything? ” he 
asked sharply, looking closely at his Grace as he 
put the question. 

The Duke seized the opening; it was the easiest 
road again. 

Anything? ” he exclaimed. Me dear friend, 
he’s the skeleton in me ointment, the fly at me feast ! 
But let him be; never bother your head about a 
creature so contemptible ! ” 

This was effectively delivered, even if its purport 
was somewhat elusive; but the Baronet was not to 
be put off so easily. 

‘‘ You spoke of his havin’ some claim,” he per- 
sisted. ‘‘ What’s that? ” 

‘‘ Claim — did I? It’s just his fancy, then. Be 
George, it’s me that has the claim on him. I saved 
that man’s life, sir ! ” 

How did it happen? ” asked the Baronet. 

Well, d’ye see,” his Grace began, with the air 
of elucidating the mystery at last, “ the Walleroo 


252 


THE DUKE 


was up in flood, and we camping too near the edge 
of the dirty stream, and the next thing there was 
our kettle floating off, filling all the time, and it the 
only one fifty miles either way. Then says he, 
^ Jack, me boy, if you look after your concertina. 
I’ll fish out the pot.’ ” 

'' Who’s Jack? ” the Baronet interrupted. 

‘‘ He called me that for short,” the Duke ex- 
plained. 

‘‘ Oh,”, said the Baronet. 

Well,” his Grace continued hastily, in he goes, 
head first, quite forgetting there was only three 
feet of overflow where he was, and then, d’ye see, 
his head being cracked with the bump on the bot- 
tom, the current was off with him twelve miles an 
hour to the Pacific. And if it hadn’t been for me 
courage and presence of mind leaving me concer- 
tina in the devouring waters and plunging after 
him, there he’d have been to this very day, sir. And 
look now how he treats me ! ” 

His Grace paused to brood over his wrongs, and 
Sir Pursuivant reflected. Though he was not re- 
markable either for humour or for imagination, 
the contrast between the Duke of Grandon and 
the concertina, and between Pall Mall and the 
flooded camp upon the Walleroo, tickled his 


THE DUKE 


253 

fancy. He chuckled silently, and in a minute 
asked — 

“ That all?” 

“ And isn’t it enough? ” said his Grace. 

“ It seems a good enough reason for your havin’ 
a pull over him, but not for his havin’ a pull over 
you.” 

The Duke’s wits were none too clear — in fact, his 
head was buzzing most annoyingly; but he could 
perceive vaguely the weak spot in his story. 

“ Me dear sir,” he said very confidentially, “ from 
that hour he became too familiar, and me being 
kind-hearted, things went from bad to worse — from 
bad to worse, sir.” 

“ D’you mean you’ve given yourself away over 
somethin’? ” 

“ In a weak moment,” said the Duke mysteri- 
ously, “ I told him where me papers were kept.” 

“ He hasn’t bagged any? ” exclaimed the Baro- 
net. 

“ Heaven knows,” his Grace replied solemnly. 

Sir Pursuivant began to lose his temper. 

“ What the deuce d’ye mean? ” he asked. 

His Grace became more confidential than ever. 

“ You see, me dear friend,” he explained, “ me 
own life hasn’t been spotless.” 


254 


THE DUKE 


“ Ah,” said the Baronet, with meaning, thinking 
that at last his Grace was coming to the point, “ he 
knows somethin’ he shouldn’t, then? ” 

“ That man, sir, has seen the Jook of Grandon 
the worse for liquor! I’d tell it to no one else, 
mind.” 

Sir Pursuivant’s patience was completely ex- 
hausted ; but he only observed drily — 

“ You’d better not; it ’ud certainly surprise 
em. 

By this time they had arrived before Grandon 
House, and his Grace had only one idea now in his 
head, and that was to be rid of his inquisitive moni- 
tor at all costs. 

“ And here we are at me own doors ! ’’ he ex- 
claimed. “ rd ask ye in, but I know Mrs. Pursui- 
vant will be expecting ye. Good-night, old man. 
God bless ye ! 

He relinquished Sir Pursuivant’s arm, took the 
steps two at a time, and after a moment’s swearing 
with his latch-key, got safely under cover. 

“Well, Pm !” began the Baronet; but he 

could think of no past participle emphatic enough. 


CHAPTER IX 


T T IS Grace of Grandon, having slammed the 
* •* front door between the Baronet and himself, 
was just crossing his marble hall, when he was met 
by a footman carrying a large Gladstone bag. 

“Who the devil’s going off now?” he asked, 
with that directness of language to which his house- 
hold had by this time grown acclimatised. 

“ Mr. Lumme, your Grace.” 

“ And why’s he going? ” 

“ I don’t know, your Grace; but he wants his 
room kept, and he may be back in a week, your 
Grace.” 

“ Keep it, then,” said his Grace carelessly. “ He 
hasn’t asked to see me before he left? ” 

“ He was inquiring for you, your Grace.” 

“ Be hanged ! ” his Grace soliloquised. “ It’ll be 
for that dirty ten pounds. It will not be me he 
sees before he goes.” 

“ And please, your Grace, Captain Jones has re- 
turned for the night,” said the servant. “ He’s 
leaving to-morrow morning, your Grace.” 

255 


256 


THE DUKE 


It may observed that the staff at Grandon House 
had learned by this time that the frequent repeti- 
tion of the phrase “ your Grace ” made amends for 
many shortcomings. 

“ And where will he be now? ” 

“ In the blue boudoir, your Grace, entertaining a 
few friends, your Grace.” 

“ A supper party, eh? ” 

“ Yes, your Grace; and, beg pardon your Grace, 
I think they’re ’aving a little dance.” 

“ Begad ! ” exclaimed his Grace. “ Then he’s 
got some — be George, I’ll come up presently and 
join them. Any one else in? ” 

“ Lord Crysanthemus Stagger, your Grace.” 

“Aha! He hasn’t left, then? Where’s he? ” 

“ In the white drawing-room, your Grace. Shall 
I tell him you are here, your Grace? ” 

“Ye needn’t trouble. I’ll go up meself.” 

“ Beg pardon, your Grace, but his Lordship’s 
’aving a little choir practice and wasn’t to be dis- 
turbed, your Grace.” 

“ Be damned ! ” exclaimed his Grace. “ In me 
own house too! I never heard of his choir be- 
fore.” 

“ Please, your Grace, he’s training two of the 
’ousemaids.” 


THE DUKE 


257 


His Grace whistled. 

“ Well done, Crissy ! ” he said to himself. Aloud 
he observed, “ That’ll be the black-eyed one and 
the one with clocks to her ” 

“ Yes, your Grace.” 

“Ye needn’t announce me,” said the Duke, 
springing up the marble staircase. 

Truly Grandon House had fallen on famous days. 

Whether there was a lull in the music, or whether 
his Grace’s footsteps were audible even through 
the practice, I cannot say, but it so happened that 
he only entered the white drawing-room in time 
to see a door slam at the other end, while his Lord- 
ship sat at the piano gently fingering the keys. 

“ Crissy, ye rascal ! ” cried the Duke, “ where’s 
your choir? ” 

“ My dear Grandon, your reputation is too in- 
famous,” replied his Lordship, with that engaging 
smile of his. “ I really could not ask them to meet 
you.” 

“ Disgracing me house ! ” said his Grace geni- 
ally. 

“ Elevating it, my profligate peer. Harmony 
for the housemaids, culture for the cook! Dear 
Duke, you have no notion what opportunities you 
have been losing.” 


2S8 


THE DUKE 


‘‘ It’s all one so long as some one has been taking 
them,” said the Duke philosophically. And Fm 
having me own fun, never fear.” 

‘‘Sordid mind!” sighed his Lordship. “Your 
Grace misapprehends me — but no matter. You 
have been revelling, I suppose? ” 

“ Revelling ! ” exclaimed the Duke, his mind re- 
turning to his late interview. “ Crissy, me boy, 
would ye call a walk from the other end of St. James’ 
Street to Grandon House, with Sir Pursuivant De- 
brette on your arm, revelling? ” 

“ It is certainly a decadent pastime.” 

“ Ye’d call it purgatory if ye tried.” 

“ I once tried,” said Crissy, “ though for a shorter 
distance — from one side of Piccadilly to the other, 
I think, with thirty seconds in the middle to let a 
’bus pass.” 

“ And ye found it amusing? ” 

“ I learned the name of a horse that was going to 
run in a race, and gave him in exchange an innu- 
endo which he failed to understand. When I 
reached the opposite pavement I had aged ten 
years.” 

The humour of Lord Crysanthemus was some- 
what too indirect for the Duke’s clear comprehen- 
sion, but he laughed dutifully, and broke out 
again — 


THE DUKE 


259 

“ He’s not a man, sir; he’s a dirty, inquisitive 
piece of wood ! ” 

“ He is respectable,” said his Lordship. “ Let 
us change the subject.” 

“ With pleasure,” his Grace agreed. “ Tell me 
what ye’ve been doing. I’ve hardly seen ye for two 
days.” 

“ I have been bored with women and annoyed 
with men.” 

“ Have ye none that can amuse ye? ” 

“ I have lost the one woman who might have 
cheered me. As for men, I despair of them. They 
are either too respectable or too inartistic.” 

“And who was the woman?” asked his Grace. 
“ Was she respectable or artistic? ” 

“ Happily contrasted, my dear Grandon ! ” said 
his Lordship. “ No woman is ever respectable at 
heart, and this one was born to be artistic. Now 
she is gone, and I am driven to choir practice.” 

He passed his hand across his fair hair and 
smiled sweetly. The Duke was not squeamish, 
but he felt somehow that he was in the presence 
of a very charming reptile. 

“ Where has she gone? ” he asked. 

“ If I knew I shouldn’t be here. I have men- 
tioned her before, I think; the only redeeming 


26 o 


THE DUKE 


feature of Lady Georgiana Stock — her little gov- 
erness.” 

The Duke pricked up his ears. Her name 
was Gaye? ” he said. 

She might have been gayer,” replied Crissy. 
‘‘ But she has been dismissed. I drank bad tea at 
Lady Georgiana's for three-quarters of an hour, 
and put the most artful questions all the time; but 
that was all I could learn.” 

His Grace smiled knowingly. 

“ Supposing I could tell ye more? ” he said. 

The devil,” remarked his Lordship deliber- 
ately. 

The Duke laughed; he rejoiced in mystery, and 
had no idea of divulging the secret just yet. 

Where is she? ” asked Crissy. 

His Grace winked. 

“ Up me sleeve till I want to play her,” he re- 
plied. 

Lord Crysanthemus reflected for a minute or 
two. He had not the slightest intention of being 
defeated at his own game; but he saw that it was 
too soon to move. The position must be recon- 
noitred first. 

As your Grace pleases,” he smiled, and in a few 
minutes yawned and declared that he should go to 
bed. 


THE DUKE 


261 


“ I have an oratorio to compose,” he said. 
“ Good-night, man of mystery ! ” 

His Grace chuckled as he saw him go, and then 
started for Captain Jones’ supper party. But first 
he must get a cigar from his study; and when he 
got there he was overtaken by an attack of the 
most portentous thoughtfulness. The hour was 
late, the house large and empty, and all of a sudden 
a string of the most annoying reflections took occa- 
sion to visit him. He lit a cigar, sat down, and 
proceeded to consider matters. First he emptied 
the contents of his trousers pockets into his hands 
and counted the result. 

“ Barely six pounds, and devil a way of raising 
more,” he said to himself. “ And things are get- 
ting as mixed as they can be. What in the world 
am I to do? ” 

And in fact his Grace of Grandon had some rea- 
son for doubtful reflections. As he said to Sir 
Pursuivant, he had “ done it again.” That very 
evening he had been engaged in the most friendly 
and animated conversation with Miss Flutter; not 
a thought of anything more serious or more perma- 
nent; not a notion either of true love or of base 
deception; when all at once he suddenly found him- 
self drifting towards the same cataract as had de- 


262 


THE DUKE 


scended before him in the case of Miss Julia Stock. 
It was easier to go on than struggle back; in a word 
another marriage had been arranged : this time be- 
tween the Duke of Grandon and the Honourable 
Nellie Flutter, only daughter of Lord Roulett. 
The same vows of secrecy had been sworn, and the 
same mysterious reason given; the lady’s tongue 
only to be untied when he was no longer Duke. 

One might suppose that a lover so recently ac- 
cepted and so singularly placed would have found 
a sufficient cause for reflection without going any 
further afield. But as a matter of fact his Grace, 
after recalling the incident and going over his own 
conduct and the bearing of the lady, came to the 
conclusion that after all there was nothing to trou- 
ble about, and devoted his attention to a far more 
pressing problem. He was unquestionably hard 
up. Two thousand nine hundred and ninety-four 
pounds had disappeared in cash, to say nothing of 
a mass of bills and I O U’s sufficient to have 
swamped a moderate fortune. And this did not 
include borrowed money, of which up to a few days 
ago he had found no difficulty in obtaining an al- 
most unlimited quantity. For what acquaintance 
would dream of refusing to lend the wealthy Duke 
of Grandon five or ten pounds? 


THE DUKE 


263 


Unfortunately this source had now been drained. 
The guests who had come to live at his expense 
soon began to find that his Grace apparently pro- 
posed to live at theirs. They lent money and they 
waited for the Duke to repay even the most trifling 
gambling debt, till in the course of two or three 
days they fairly took fright and fled. This, then, 
was the cause of that exodus which had so mystified 
Sir Pursuivant, and besides robbing the Duke of a 
source of revenue, it had now closed the purse- 
strings of all to whom they had confided their dis- 
appointment. 

“ Three days to go,” soliloquised the Duke, “ and 
a miserable six quid in me pocket. And I meant 
to have them the liveliest three days of the lot.” 

It was distasteful enough to think that his reign 
must come to an end at all, but to have it fizzle out 
like this was unbearable. Heartily did he consign 
his secretary to the unpleasantest situation he could 
think of. 

“ To leave me like this ! It’s shameful ! Be 
George, I’ll not stand it ! He’ll never miss a small 
cheque.” 

He jumped up and went over to a small bureau 
which Lambert had used when by chance he had 
done any secretarial duties. It was open; not a 
drawer seemed locked. 


264 


THE DUKE 


‘‘ There’s a fine business man for ye, leaving 
everything unlocked so that any one might come in 
and help themselves. I wonder what he keeps 
here?” 

He pulled out the drawers one after another; all 
but one, and that stuck fast. 

The suspicious curmudgeon ! keeping his 
things locked up in me own private study as if he 
thought rd steal them. Til just try me own 
keys.” 

The third key he tried fitted, and the drawer 
came open. There indeed lay a cheque-book 
among other things, but what caught the Duke’s 
eye first and rivetted his attention was a small slip 
of paper with a pencilled writing on it. It was the 
receipt. 

He took it out and read the brief memorandum 
beginning, “ Received of Lambert Haselle, styled 
Duke of Grandon,” and ending with his own signa- 
ture. He stared at it, and then he kept on staring. 
In the silence of Grandon House an inviting burst 
of merriment from the supper party came plainly to 
the study, but his Grace’s ears had apparently 
grown deaf. 


CHAPTER X 


'^HAT night Sir Pursuivant Debrette slept little. 

He was so thoroughly ill at ease that after 
breakfasting and endeavouring to concentrate his 
mind for a time upon a usually appreciated sporting 
periodical, he felt there was only one thing to be 
done. It was the step he had always taken in sea- 
sons of doubt. 

Accordingly he set out westwards, and about 
half an hour later was ushered into Laura Lou- 
vaine’s drawing-room. 

She greeted him as brightly and kindly as ever, 
and then as he stood leaning against her mantel- 
shelf casting round in his mind for the best begin- 
ning, she asked, with a smile — 

“Worried, Pursie?” 

“ Little,” he answered; “ how’d you know? ” 

She laughed. 

“ You’d never come to see me otherwise.” 

“Nonsense, Laura!” he exclaimed; “hang it 
all!” 

“ You can’t deny it ! ” she insisted. 

265 


266 


THE DUKE 


The Baronet was evidently put about. 

“ Er — truth is,” he hesitated; “well, Laura, I’m 
no ladies’ man, and they don’t cotton to me — so I 
don’t trouble ’em if I can help it.” 

“ Then you have discovered that I only tolerate 
you with difficulty? ” 

She smiled at him so infectiously that he actually 
beamed back. 

“ Can’t say,” he replied. “ Don’t want to risk 
it.” 

“ Risk what? ” 

“ Borin’ you.” 

He was so evidently sincere and the compliment 
so delicate that she blushed as well as laughed in 
crying — 

“ My dear Pursie ! sit down, and don't be such 
a fool!” 

Sir Pursuivant laughed jerkily and sat down, 
looking wonderfully pleased. 

“ And now,” she said, “ what’s the matter? ” 

“ It’s that young ass Grandon again — can’t make 
him out.” 

“ I hear remarkable accounts of him,” she ob- 
served. 

“ And I’ve bin gettin’ more remarkable accounts 
from him.” 


THE DUKE 


267 


“ Accounts of what? ” 

“ Of everything I asked him about. Talk o’ 
what’s-his-name who fell down dead through lyin’ ! 
Grandon gives him points. I was askin’ him last 
night about his secretary — that fishy chap Kava- 
nagh; why he was under his thumb, and that sort of 
thing.” 

“ And what did he say? ” 

“ Talked rot. First said he’d saved the fellow’s 
life — as if that had anythin’ to do with it. Then 
that the man knew where he kept his papers — 
which he naturally would, considerin’ he pretends 
to be secretary. And then he said he’d seen him 
drunk ! As if half o’ London hadn’t by this time.” 

Mrs. Louvaine laughed : somewhat unsympa- 
thetically it seemed to him. 

“ It’s no laughin’ matter, Laura,” he said. 
“ There’s somethin’ in the wind. Do you know 
where the secretary is now? ” 

“ Where? ” 

“ Gone up to Dunwishart to see the Gayes; and 
this mornin’ I got a letter from Miss Gaye askin’ 
me to interfere, and sayin’ he’s not behavin’ as he 
ought. There’s somethin’ up, Laura.” 

“ What has Mr. the secretary been doing? ” 

she asked quickly. 


268 


THE DUKE 


“ H’m,” he answered a little doubtfully. “ She 
doesn’t say exactly, but she seems uncommon wor- 
ried about somethin’ he’s doin’.” 

For a minute Laura made no answer, and then 
she asked — 

“ And what do you want me to do? ” 

Both the question and something in her manner 
seemed to surprise the Baronet a little. 

“ I don’t suppose you can do anythin’,” he re- 
plied, “ but — er — ^you’re sharper than me in guess- 
in’ riddles, and I’m fairly beaten by this one.” 

“ Pursie ! ” she exclaimed suddenly, “ can’t you 
see what has happened? ” 

“ Hanged if I can. Can you?” 

“ Can’t any one else? ” 

“ They don’t seem to see that there’s anythin’ 
wrong.” 

“ No,” she said thoughtfully, “ I suppose they 
don’t; though I can’t understand their stupidity. 
You at least have suspected.” 

His curiosity was thoroughly aroused by this 
time. 

“ What the deuce is it? ” he exclaimed. 

“ Mr. Kavanagh is the Duke of Grandon.” 

For a minute Sir Pursuivant was too astounded 
to do more than stare blankly at her. At last he 
managed to ejaculate — 


THE DUKE 


269 


“ What d’ye mean? ” 

“ For some reason or other the Duke of Grandon 
has changed places with a man called Kavanagh,” 
she replied, speaking with perfect composure and 
as if she were sure of what she said. “ Don’t you 
see, that accounts for the Duke’s accent — and for 
the hold the secretary has over him — and for his 
going to see the Gayes — and for everything? ” 

By this time the Baronet had recovered some- 
thing of his outward composure, though his mind 
felt as bewildered as if he had witnessed some im- 
possible conjuring trick. 

“ Who told you this? ” he asked. 

“ I guessed it.” 

“ But you don’t know? ” 

“ I am quite certain.” 

“ What makes you think so? ” he persisted. 

“ It’s more than thinking, Pursie.” 

She paused and seemed to hesitate, and then she 
said — 

“ You remember Walter Haselle?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I was once engaged to him.” 

“ You? ” he exclaimed. 

“ That was before you knew me. It wasn’t an- 
nounced when — when he had to leave the country. 


270 


THE DUKE 


He broke it off himself, and nobody knew of it; but 
can’t you believe that I should feel interested in 
Walter’s son? ” 

The Baronet looked right before him thoughtful- 
ly, but made no answer. 

“ That man at Grandon House is no Haselle, 
Pursie ! You can trust me, he isn’t. But the very 
first time I saw his secretary I was instantly re- 
minded of somebody. At first I thought it was the 
late Duke.” 

“ Frank? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Gad ! ” said the Baronet, “ now you speak of 
it, there is somethin’ now and then.” 

“ Then I saw the resemblance was really to Wal- 
ter, and when I got to know this secretary better 
I felt certain 1 had guessed the secret. At last I 
talked to him of the Duke’s father, and he hardly 
made a pretence we were not speaking of his own — • 
at least I could read his meaning quite clearly.” 

Sir Pursuivant was still lost in a fog of wonder. 

“ That man Kavanagh, Duke of Grandon ! ” he 
exclaimed, trying desperately to readjust his no- 
tions of the secretary. 

“ That very man,” said she. 

“ Good Lord ! ” cried the Baronet. 


THE DUKE 


271 


Laura laughed. 

“ But why on earth should he change with any 
one? ” he asked. “ A man isn’t made a duke every 
day.” 

“ I have imagined a dozen reasons. Perhaps as 
a jest — perhaps as an experiment — perhaps to play 
the world a trick.” 

“ What’s he want to play it a trick for? ” 

“ Possibly,” she said, looking very straight at 
him, “ he considered that the world played his 
father a trick.” 

He was evidently struck sharply by the idea. For 
an instant he glanced at her almost suspiciously, 
and then he said — 

“ He knows the old story, then? ” 

“ Yes.” 

The Baronet sprang to his feet. Though his face 
was studiously calm, she saw that he was excited. 

“ And now he’s gone to see the Gayes ! ” he 
said. 

“ So it seems.” 

“ Gad ! ” he exclaimed, “ I must stop him.” 

“ You ,” she cried. “ Why? ” 

Sir Pursuivant was clearly very 'ill at ease. At 
first he hesitated, and then blurted out, “ Poor old 
Frank isn’t here to defend himself.” 


2/2 


THE DUKE 


Had he any defence? ” she asked quietly. 

Do you mean — er ” he stammered. 

That Walter was innocent? Yes, Pursie — and 
you know it.’’ 

No, I don’t,” he replied obstinately. 

You saw the Duke die,” she said, her face light- 
ing and her voice warming. Do you doubt that 
he was guilty? ” 

It was a shot at a venture, but it made him walk 
to the far end of the room and back again before 
he ventured to answer. When he did it was in a 
defiant tone. 

‘‘ Anyhow he isn’t here now to speak for himself, 
and I’m not goin’ to have ’em dig up his skeleton 
and call it names.” 

Is this what you call justice, Pursie? ” 

‘‘ It’s standin’ by a friend when he’s dead, just as 
much as if he wasn’t. P’raps you think that’s go- 
in’ too far? Sorry, can’t help it, Laura.” 

Laura’s sense of righteousness was almost shaken 
by his devotion, but she only answered — 

It wouldn’t be going too far if he had deserved 
it.” 

Did from me,” said the Baronet; and then sud- 
denly he asked, I say, have you heard from the 
secretary or Duke or whatever he is, since he left? ” 


THE DUKE 


273 


“ No.” 

Sir Pursuivant began to pace the room with an 
appearance almost of agitation. 

“ I wonder what the deuce he’s doin’,” he said. 
“ Pumpin’ poor old Mrs. Gaye, I s’pose, and fright- 
enin’ ’em all into fits. Next thing he’ll be 
writin’ the whole show to the Times. Confound 
it all!” 

As she listened to him and watched his distress, 
it seemed to Mrs. Louvaine that she had never 
looked into an honester heart. 

“ But don’t you think it’s your first duty to look 
after Frank’s heir? ” she suggested. 

Sir Pursuivant seemed struck with the idea. In 
fact, he had quite forgotten that side of his duty for 
the moment. 

“ I s’pose it is,” he admitted. “ I’ve got to see 
to ’em both, though.” 

“ Frank’s character and Frank’s heir? ” she said. 
“ And suppose I should tell you that I’d been mis- 
managing my own little money matters again and 
they needed some looking after? ” 

“ What? ” he asked seriously. “ Do they? ” 

“ No,” she laughed, “ but if they did you’d see 
to that too, wouldn’t you? Oh, Pursie, I wonder if 
your friends know how lucky they are I ” 


274 


THE DUKE 


The laugh had become a very mixed sound and 
her eyes were very kind indeed. 

The Baronet was fairly taken aback. She had 
always been absurdly grateful, he thought, but 
never before so generous as this. 

“ My dear Laura ! ” he expostulated, while a 
long-suppressed sensation needed a fresh suppres- 
sion, “ sure I’m charmed. Nothin’ else to do, don’t 
you know.” 

There was a pause of perhaps some ten seconds 
by the clock after this, though it seemed to the 
Baronet much longer; and then she asked — 

“ And now, having nothing else to do, what will 
you begin with? ” 

“ Got to see the Duke first ; that’s to say the man 
who calls himself Duke. The thing’s past a joke, 
and if he really isn’t Duke of Grandon he’s got to 
clear out o’ Grandon House.” 

It may seem remarkable how implicitly he had 
accepted her explanation of the mystery, but the 
truth was that ever since she married his cousin 
George Louvaine, and he first came to know her, 
he had considered Laura the cleverest person in 
the world. 

“ And then? ” she asked. 

“ Go north.” 


THE DUKE 


275 

“ When shall you see the — what shall I call him? 
— the decoy Duke? ” 

“ Soon as I can.” 

” Will you let me know what happens? ” 

“ Right,” said the Baronet. “ I’ll come round 
here afterwards. Goodbye just now.” 

He started to leave and then turned back again. 

“ I say, Laura,” he said, “ I can’t thank you 
enough for guessin’ all this. What an ass I’ve bin ! 
Only comfort is every one else has bin taken in 
too.” 

And at that he suddenly burst into a roar of 
laughter. 

“ What ever’s the matter? ” cried Laura; a little 
startled by this unusual demonstration. 

“ I was just thinkin’ of Lady Georgiana. Ha, 
ha!” 

The laugh ceased as abruptly as it had begun, 
and the Baronet stalked out. 


CHAPTER XI 


I ''HE Duke of Grandon and Lord Crysanthemus 
* Stagger had been playing billiards. It was 
early in the afternoon and very hot and they sat 
still in their shirt-sleeves drinking iced champagne. 
Champagne at all hours was one of his Grace’s 
most ducal ideals, and this afternoon his guest 
seemed anxious to coax him into an even more 
liberal consumption of it than usual. One effect 
had already become evident: his Grace was in a 
very good-humoured and loquacious mood, and his 
Lordship thought it now safe to reconnoitre a cer- 
tain position. 

“ Grandon,” he sighed, “ is there anything on 
earth that is not at your disposal? ” 

“ Not much,” replied his Grace complacently. 

“ Are you thirsty? ” said Lord Crysanthemus, 
waving his white hand effectively. “ You have the 
rosiest wines! Are you hungry? You have the 
most succulent dinners ! Are you amorous? You 
have the fairest women ! ” 

276 


THE DUKE 


277 


‘‘ Aha! said the Duke cunningly, ye’re think- 
ing of your little governess, Crissy ! ” 

Crissy was, and he had also intended that his 
Grace should refer to her first. 

'' What is the use? ” he smiled. “ She has met 
you. I am forgotten 1 ” 

She hasn’t met me yet, me boy.” 

Crissy showed no sign either of surprise or un- 
usual interest. 

‘‘ My dear Duke, why deceive me? ” 

I’m not deceiving you,” said his Grace, smiling 
mysteriously. ‘‘ I have her safe, though.” 

And yet you haven’t met her? ” said his Lord- 
ship languidly. 

The Duke chuckled. 

Crissy, me dear friend, shall I make ye jeal- 
ous? ” 

'' I have outlived jealousy.” 

Have ye? Listen to me, then! She’s living 
at me own castle of Dunwishart. Ha, ha ! What 
d’ye say to that? ” 

Still Crissy displayed no more than the mildest 
interest. 

Have you presented her, then, with the trous- 
seau and the bridal chamber before wooing her? ” 
The joke is, me dear Crissy,” laughed the 


2 ^% 


THE DUKE 


Duke, ‘‘ that Dunwishart’s her home, be all that 
I can learn.” 

Lord Crysanthemus did actually raise his eye- 
brows and reflect for a minute. 

Ah, I see,” he said, “ some old protege of the 
Grandons. Home and occupation provided by 
your far-seeing race. I felicitate you, Duke ! ” 

He smiled, sipped his wine, and began to hu- 
morously complain of the heat. The Duke felt a 
little disappointed at his taking this piece of news 
thus calmly; but then it was Crissy’s greatest charm 
in his eyes that he represented aristocratic compos- 
ure to such perfection. As he sat there listening 
to his Lordship’s soft tongue, he became entirely 
happy. His cares were at an end; he had cashed 
a fresh cheque that morning; and the whole world 
seemed a warm current that bore him delightfully 
wherever he wished. 

It gave him a shock like falling out of bed to 
have the door suddenly opened and the words, ‘‘ Sir 
Pursuivant Debrette, your Grace ! ” clanged into 
his ears. 

‘‘ Good Lord ! ” exclaimed Crissy, springing up 
and into his coat as the Baronet entered. 

‘‘You’re not going, Crissy?” said his Grace, 
with a desperate attempt to keep a buffer between 
himself and his inquisitor. 


THE DUKE 




“ So sorry; I really must.” 

Lord Crysanthemus greeted the Baronet sweetly 
as he passed him and vanished with almost magical 
celerity. 

“ Ye’ve only just caught me,” said his Grace 
heartily as he put on his own coat. “ I’m going 
out to the most pressing aflair.” 

“ ’Fraid I must have a talk with you first,” the 
Baronet announced, with a more than usually grim 
and business-like air. 

Already his Grace’s good spirits were damped, 
but he answered cheerfully, looking ostentatiously 
at his watch. 

“ Five minutes, then, since it’s you that asks 
it.” 

Sir Pursuivant stood very erect beside the bill- 
iard-table considering how he should best begin. 
Finally he burst in medias res with an abruptness 
that certainly was more dramatically effective than 
any ingenious circumlocution. 

“ I say, it’s time you stopped this foolin’.” 

The consternation and bewilderment of the un- 
fortunate Duke may perhaps be better imagined 
than written. He just retained sufficient presence 
of mind to demand in a voice that might have been 
choked either with indignation or alarm — 


28 o 


THE DUKE 


“ What the devil d’ye mean? ” 

“ Callin’ yourself Duke of Grandon,” said the 
Baronet, with an immovable countenance. 

“ I don’t understand ye, sir,” stammered the 
Duke. 

“Yes, you do. You’re not the son of the late 
Walter Haselle.” 

By this time his Grace was regaining more com- 
mand of himself. 

“ And what makes ye say that? ” 

“ I know it.” 

“ Who’s told ye this nonsense? ” 

“ That’s no matter.” 

The impostor’s courage began to come back a lit- 
tle. He had had time to remember that the receipt 
was under lock and key and the papers in his own 
possession. Besides, the game of bluff was one 
with which he was not unfamiliar, and he thought 
he saw the features of it now. 

“Confound ye!” he answered stoutly. “Isn’t 
it?” 

Sir Pursuivant was a trifle staggered. 

“ Do you mean to say you are the rightful 
Duke of Grandon? ” he asked. 

“ Of course I mean to say so.” 

The Baronet saw that he must be more wary. 


THE DUKE 


281 


“ Perhaps I’m wrong,” he replied. “ You are 
then the son of Walter Haselle and Mary Smith? ” 

Sir Pursuivant was not imaginative, and on the 
spur of the moment Mary Smith was the only fe- 
male name he could think of. However, it served 
its purpose. 

“ Certainly, sir,” said his Grace unsuspect- 
ingly. 

“ And you were born in New South Wales 
twenty-six years ago? ” 

Had the Duke taken the trouble to study his 
borrowed birth-certificate, he probably would not 
have answered with so much assurance — 

“ I was, sir.” 

Again Sir Pursuivant had to rack a brain unused 
to finesse in search of further gins and traps. 

“ You are not Irish, then? ” he asked next. 

“ No, sir,” said his Grace warmly; “ I never saw 
the country ! ” 

“ Nor lived with Irish people? ” 

“ What d’ye take me for? I’ll not stand this, 
sir.” 

“ How d’you account for your Irish accent, 
then? ” asked the Baronet, still with unruffled 
calm. 

This time his Grace was genuinely enraged. It 


282 


THE DUKE 


was not to be supposed that his courtiers had 
spoken of his accent to his face, and in fact he was 
in blissful ignorance of this embellishment. 

“ Me Irish accent ! ” he cried wrathfully. “ Have 
ye come to insult me? ” 

Sir Pursuivant, however, never turned a hair. 

“ I may tell you,” he said as coolly as ever, “ that 
Walter Haselle was not married to Mary Smith, 
and their son wasn’t born in New South Wales 
twenty-six years ago, and that you are an Irish im- 
postor.” 

His Grace perceived that it was time to put his 
foot down firmly and end the matter for once and 
all. 

With tremendous spirit and emphasis he 
roared— 

“ Ye’ll clear out of this house, sir, faster than ye 
came in! I’m the only Jook of Grandon ye are 
ever going to see, and ye can put that in your pipe 
and smoke it ! ” 

Entirely undismayed by this attack, the Baronet 
asked — 

“ The arrangement, then, is that you stay here 
till the gentleman who calls himself your secretary 
wishes to disclose his identity? ” 

“ If ye come from that gentleman sir, ye can tell 


THE DUKE 283 

him, arrangement or no arrangement, I’m here and 
I mean to stay here ! ” 

“ Supposin’ he wants to come back now? ” sug- 
gested the Baronet. 

“ He’s too late. The only proofs who’s jook are 
in me own hands, and ye can both go to the devil, 
sir!” 

“ Then you admit there was a temporary arrange- 
ment, and you propose to violate it? ” said Sir Pur- 
suivant imperturbably. 

“ Get out of me house ! ” thundered his Grace. 
“ D’ye think the Jook of Grandon is going to stand 
impudence like this? ” 

Sir Pursuivant took up his hat and gloves from 
the billiard-table. 

“ Before goin’, let me warn you, sir, that if you 
mean to impose on the public without the Duke’s 
leave you’ll get into trouble,” he said. 

He went to the door, and just before he went out, 
added — 

“ I’m goin’ to see him now. Shall I tell him you 
intend to stay here? ” 

His demeanour and words were so formidably 
quiet that his Grace’s language became the more 
violent. 

“Ye can tell me secretary that I dismiss him on 


284 


THE DUKE 


the spot as a stingy, ungrateful rascal, sir ! ’’ he 
shouted, and ye can both boil your heads in gravy 
and hide them in your dirty hats ! ’’ 

Much obliged for the hint,’’ said the Baronet 
as he departed. 

His Grace sighed a deep sigh of relief and drank 
a long drink. His outrageous bluster had been a 
merely Celtic manifestation, and now that his foe 
had left the field he felt rather cheerful and good- 
humoured than otherwise. The die had been cast, 
and though for a moment he did feel a little appre- 
hensive, his national buoyancy instantly came to 
the rescue, and, whistling with great unconcern, he 
set out to find his friend Crissy. 

His Lordship has just gone,” he was informed. 
‘‘ He left word for your Grace that he would return 
in a day or two.” 

His Grace felt a little annoyed, though scarcely 
surprised, for by this time he was quite used to see- 
ing his guests depart without warning and return 
without invitation. 

Meanwhile Sir Pursuivant had driven straight to 
Mrs. Louvaine’s to give her the news and ease his 
own feelings. 

“ What I can’t understand,” he said, when he 
had finished his narrative, '' is how any one can 


THE DUKE 


285 


ever have bin taken in by the man. He used lan- 
guage more like a cabby than a gentleman — never 
heard such a vulgar brute ! ” 

Mrs. Louvaine smiled. 

“ And yet you believed in him yourself up till 
to-day? ” 

“ That’s what bothers me,” he admitted. “ How 
the deuce did it happen? ” 

“ Well,” she said, “ I don’t think really the ex- 
planation is so very far to seek. Suppose I was to 
take this little water-colour here and put it in a 
splendid frame and say it was a priceless Turner, 
and arrange my whole room so as to show it off, 
and speak of it in an awed whisper, don’t you sup- 
pose people would approach it on tip-toe and see 
the most wonderful merits in it, just because they 
were told to? Every one would but an expert; and 
then, you see, Pursie, there are no experts in 
dukes.” 

“ I s’pose you’re right,” said the Baronet gloom- 
ily. It came as a great shock to his most cherished 
prejudices to think that a man of blood and rank 
could be imitated by the dozen, and he would 
have refused indignantly to admit the reasoning 
had it come from any other than Laura Lou- 


vame. 


286 


THE DUKE 


She read his thoughts and smiled to herself, and 
then to distract him asked — 

Do you think that man will really be able to 
keep the dukedom? 

Nonsense,’’ said the Baronet testily; ‘‘the real 
duke must have kept proofs or somethin’. He’d 
never be such an ass as to leave the other chap with 
no check on him.” 

“ Then why does the other chap risk it? ” 

“ Can’t say. Must go to Dunwishart at once 
and see the Duke.” 

“ When shall you start? ” 

Sir Pursuivant looked at his watch. 

“ Just time to pack and catch the night train if 
I look sharp.” 

“ Won’t you stay and dine with me? ” said Laura; 
“ you haven’t dined here for two years.” 

There had come into her head the most curious 
presentiment that Walter Haselle’s son should not 
be interfered with at this moment. In the matter 
of his business with the Gayes she was all for him 
and all against the dead Duke and his faithful 
friend, though she dared not show another inkling 
of her feelings. 

Sir Pursuivant hesitated. 

“ I oughtn’t to wait,” he said, a little lamely. 


THE DUKE 


287 


“ One day can’t matter. And I’ve ordered din- 
ner for two,” she answered, with a smile that con- 
quered his resolution. 

And so the Baronet stayed to dinner and talked 
a little and listened a great deal, and at last went 
home with something very like a smile upon his 
face the whole way; while the old castle in the north 
was given another day to see its own piece played 
out. 


CHAPTER XII 


A BOUT the time that Sir Pursuivant ought to 
have been arriving at Dunwishart, had he 
kept to his first resolution, in the middle of a long 
summer’s afternoon, Marjorie Gaye laid down her 
duster with a sigh and let her thoughts wander. 
Matters had gone on without change or improve- 
ment, and all the time the strain became harder to 
bear. The work of renovating this dusty old castle 
by the might of her single arm seemed useless, and 
so futile now as hardly to be worth the doing. For 
if this secretary really controlled the Duke’s com- 
ing, cobwebs might have time to gather again in 
every corner before he arrived. There could have 
been an answer by now from Sir Pursuivant, but no 
answer had come; and for the first time she was 
beginning to confess to herself that she had over- 
rated her strength, and been a little too contemptu- 
ous of man. She had gone into the fray as confi- 
dent in her power and as scornful of the forces 
against her as a young salmon may feel when he 
288 


THE DUKE 


289 


first pulls against the thin, invisible cast. Now she 
felt like the fish after half an hour’s run, with the 
hook still in her mouth and the gut unbroken. 

The secretary had been hard and callous as a 
boulder from the hill, and her methods of dealing 
with him as little able to soften or to break as ham- 
mering such a stone with a croquet mallet. Her 
mother grew more nervous and fearful every day, 
till horrible suspicions of the justice of their cause 
had even come by instants into Marjorie’s heart. 
And so she sat this afternoon idle and depressed. 

The secretary was out; there was no sound or 
movement anywhere about the castle except the 
whining of a sea breeze round the walls; and the 
most dismal thoughts began to assail her. She had 
done no good, received no thanks, and she had lost 
the independence that a means of livelihood had 
given her; for, as the secretary had bluntly put it, 
she had been “ sacked.” Lady Georgiana, like a 
person properly brought up herself, of austere vir- 
tue, punctual in the fulfilment of what she called her 
own duty, and exceedingly particular that those 
beholden to her should remember the fact, had 
merely replied to Marjorie’s request for a little 
longer leave by a telegram with a reply prepaid, 
demanding her instant return. On receipt of the re- 


290 


THE DUKE 


ply she had then composed such a letter as a benefi- 
cent patroness, disappointed by the ingratitude of 
a dependent might be expected to write. Marjorie 
had put it straight in the fire, but not till the acid 
of her Ladyship’s words had burned a mark. She 
flushed now as she thought of them. 

It was while she was in this dreary humour that 
the servant came in and announced a visitor. 

‘‘ For me? ” said Marjorie. 

It appeared that a gentleman had come to see 
the castle, and learning casually that Miss Gaye 
lived here, he had demanded to see her. 

‘‘ What is his name? ” she asked. 

But the gentleman had given no name, and the 
maid’s description merely gave further food for 
speculation. 

“ Well,” she said to herself, I’ll have to show 
him round anyhow, I suppose, so it doesn’t matter 
who it is.” 

She debated for a minute whether she should 
remove her apron. The housemaid’s cap had gone 
some time ago, as giving her an appearance of 
which she disapproved, though she found it hard 
to find an adjective for it. (The very vulgar might 
have termed it saucy.”) 

Finally she decided to retain it on a point of pride, 


THE DUKE 


291 


for supposing the secretary was to return and think 
that when he was out of sight she ceased to play 
the servant? Yet for the life of her she could not 
help feeling a little self-conscious, and so she en- 
tered the hall with a wonderfully becoming flush 
upon her face. 

The flush deepened at the sight of her visitor, and 
such a smile of embarrassment and humour broke 
through it as made that gentleman think he had 
already some reward for his journey. 

‘‘ You? ’’ she exclaimed. 

Only me,’’ smiled Lord Crysanthemus, bend- 
ing gracefully over her hand. 

It was indeed his Lordship, looking boyish and 
bright and charming, in the coolest of grey flannel 
suits, and the most becoming of ties, and the neatest 
of brown boots. In his button-hole he wore a sin- 
gle rose, and in his hand he carried a soft felt hat. 
Everything about him breathed of the summer, and 
the cheerful world outside of these old walls, and 
life and youth and pleasure. Marjorie would have 
given something very valuable to have taken off 
her apron; but it was too late, and out of sheer pride 
it must stay on now. 

Whatever has brought you here? ” she asked, 
looking at him frankly. 


292 


THE DUKE 


A wandering mind, an empty purse, and a 
train.” 

Marjorie laughed. She had pleasant recollec- 
tions of his Lordship’s humour and his little atten- 
tions to her. On one of the few occasions when 
she was permitted by Lady Georgiana to see the 
world outside her school-room, she had met him 
first. Then by singular coincidences she had hap- 
pened to meet him once or twice again, and she had 
enough suspicion that he assisted fate on these oc- 
casions to make him for her agreeably different 
from other men. 

Are you the mistress of this castle? ” he asked, 

or the ghost — or the chef? ” 

He glanced at her apron and smiled. 

‘‘ The charwoman,” she laughed. ‘‘ So you must 
excuse the costume.” 

He looked at her with an artist’s approval. A 
white apron can make a wonderfully becoming set- 
ting to a black dress and a fair head. Besides, its 
associations somehow or other made it seem easier 
to break the ice of respect. 

I only wish I owned anything so becoming,” 
he said. 

She was not sophisticated enough to receive a 
compliment with quite the proper air, but his Lord- 


THE DUKE 


293 


ship perceived that it had gone home. There was 
little wonder too, for compliments had not come 
much in her way of late, or ever for the matter of 
that; certainly the secretary had paid her none, and 
now this inrush of a kindlier air was very pleasant 
to feel. Life and pleasure were borne in upon it, 
and her spirits began to rise with a leap. 

But whatever compliments he paid, she could 
hardly think that Lord Crysanthemus had anything 
to do with the latest coincidence that had brought 
him here. 

“ How did you happen to come to Dunwishart, 
of all strange places? ” she asked. 

“ The Duke of Grandon mentioned its attrac- 
tions,” he replied, watching to see how she took 
this. 

A welcome idea rushed into Marjorie’s head. 

“ Did he send you? ” she asked, with an eager- 
ness that the decadent instantly noted. 

This, then, she thought was the reason of his 
coming. The secretary was to be supplanted and 
the Duke speak for himself. And yet, strangely 
enough, there came the next instant a most contra- 
dictory notion that the secretary was being rather 
badly treated by his master. 

As for his Lordship, he laughed cynically in his 


294 


THE DUKE 


sleeve. The Duke, then, had deceived him, and 
this girl had been cut out under his nose. He 
vowed he should redress the balance. 

Yet he smiled sweetly as he answered — 

'' In a sense I may even say that he sent me.” 

Marjorie’s spirits rose higher still, in spite of the 
poor secretary’s discomfiture (for she almost for- 
gave him now), and it was with her happiest air and 
a note of interrogation in her eyes that she asked. 

Do you want to see the castle? ” rather as 
much as to imply that she did not really think he 
did. 

He read the indication in his own way, and looked 
at her with a glance that puzzled her. 

‘‘Is it different from other castles?” he asked. 
“ It has a damp smell, I suppose, and blood on the 
floors? I have inspected exactly four hundred and 
fifty such.” 

“ Then I won’t show you much,” she laughed. 

He looked with the air of a connoisseur through 
one or two rooms, jesting as he went, till they came 
into my lady’s boudoir, a very pleasant old room, 
quite habitable-looking still, and commanding the 
most dazzling view of sea and coast. 

“ Must I see any more? ” he sighed. 

“ Not unless you like.” 


THE DUKE 


295 


“ I should rather talk with you.” 

Marjorie was quite agreeable, thinking that busi- 
ness was going to open — as did Lord Crysanthe- 
mus. 

“ By the way,” she cried, as a thought struck 
her, “ I don’t know whether you asked for my 
mother, but she is laid up.” 

“ Your mother ! ” said his Lordship, a little taken 
aback, for he had never heard of her before. 

“Yes; she has been rather worried.” 

“ Ah,” he said, with the air of one who had heard 
before of such mythical mothers. He turned to an 
old piano, hiding a smile as he did so, and asked if 
she played it. 

“ Sometimes,” she said. 

“ Won’t you now? ” 

“Won’t you?” 

Lord Crysanthemus was only waiting to be 
asked, for he held the most advanced theories on 
the powers of music. He sat by the piano and she 
on a low window seat, and as he looked across at 
her he thought he had never seen a fairer picture 
than her head framed in blue sky and white clouds. 
Then he sang two or three songs in a sympathetic, 
light baritone voice that made the words, whatever 
they were, very moving to hear, while she listened 


296 THE DUKE 

and rested and wondered if their troubles were 
really coming to an end. 

When he had finished he rose and came across to 
her. 

^^You need a cushion,” he said; and looking 
round, chose a pale blue one, and put it behind her 
head. That is your colour,” he smiled. 

She simply said, ‘‘ Thanks,” but she was very 
pleased at this little attention; and she let him sit 
on the seat beside her and talk in his caressing, half- 
humorous way much longer than she ought consid- 
ering that he never once approached the subject 
of the Duke’s business. At last this omission be- 
gan to strike her, and suddenly she asked — 

Did the Duke say anything in particular? ” 

He appointed me his acting substitute.” 

Did he? ” she said. Fm very glad.” 

His Lordship was already on fire, and at this 
there was no more chance of quenching it. The 
castle was silent, the room still and sunny, the girl 
matched the occasion delightfully, and Lord Crys- 
anthemus was what he himself called an artist. 


CHAPTER XIII 


T AMBERT came down from the heather hills 
upon this the last day but one of secretaryship 
with a more set and serious face than he had ever 
worn in the old, careless, new-world days. It had 
insensibly been losing its devil-may-care-ness since 
he landed and more quickly since he came north, 
till now it had his birth-mark plainly written. The 
time had all but come to take the plunge, and face 
the world, and accept the consequences of his 
humour. Not that he cared much what all the de- 
ceived would say; they might go to the deuce for 
being such fools, thought he; but he reflected a 
good deal on the first step, the settling with the 
Gayes. It was a nuisance to have postponed it so 
long, and he might at any time have told the truth 
and ended the farce; but he had said he would let 
his substitute have a clear month, and as the reader 
may have gathered, he was an obstinate chip of an 
obstinate block. Exactly a month ago to-morrow 


298 


THE DUKE 


night he had come in the moonlight to Grandon 
House, and not till dusk had drawn in did he feel 
himself free. 

He came into the castle, and was on his way to 
the library, when his ear was caught by a curious 
sound. It might have been a cry or it might have 
been a door creak, but it sounded unusual enough 
to make him stop and listen. In a moment he 
heard it again, and then again and again; and it was 
certainly not a creaking door. With a quick step 
he tracked it down, and just as he came opposite 
the old boudoir door, he heard it plainly inside. 
He tried the handle — the door was locked. For a 
moment he stood outside listening. There was 
distinctly a sound of people moving, and then a 
voice so pitched that it made his heart jump 
cried — 

Let me out ! ’’ 

He turned his back and kicked with the vigour 
of a stallion. The old lock gave way instantly, the 
door flew wide open, and he had turned round in 
time to see his foe. Miss Marjorie Gaye, pale as a 
sheet, struggling to free her wrists from a man in 
a flannel suit. The man sprang back and loosed 
his grip, and Lambert recognised Lord Crysanthe- 
mus Stagger. 


THE DUKE 


299 


He looked the visitor up and down, and then, 
“ What the hell are you doing here? ” he demand- 
ed; and never had Marjorie heard blasphemy sound 
so appropriate. 

His Lordship’s hair was tumbled, his face flushed, 
and his passions up. There was nothing left of the 
sweet-tongued, boyish decadent. In still stronger 
language he requested to know the secretary’s busi- 
ness there. 

Without replying to this, Lambert turned to 
Marjorie and found her close by his side. 

“ What’s he been doing? ” he asked, with a calm- 
ness very ominous to such as knew him. 

“ He said he came from the Duke,” cried Mar- 
jorie, with tears in her voice, and her eyes flashing 
anger at his Lordship, “ but he hasn’t ! ” 

“ Did he — ” began Lambert, and stuck for a del- 
icate word — “ bother you on anything? ” 

“ I — I didn’t know he was going to,” she said, 
turning scarlet and looking still more fiercely at the 
decadent. 

By this time Lord Crysanthemus had smoothed 
his hair and got himself under some control, though 
his eye was very nasty. 

“ Will you get out of the room, Mr. Bounder, 
or secretary, or whatever you call yourself? ” he 


300 


THE DUKE 


said with the haughtiness of a noble talking to a 
plebeian. “ Do you know who I am? '' 

A dirty little brute.” 

Fm a gentleman, if you know what that is ! ” 
screamed his Lordship; ‘‘ and you may feel devilish 

well flattered to have one come and kiss your ” 

‘‘ Take care,” said Lambert, coming towards him. 
Don't you know when to stop? ” 

As he continued to advance. Lord Crysanthemus 
threw up his fists. ‘‘ Stand ofif ! ” he shouted. He 
had courage enough, despite his vices, but scarcely 
sufficient skill, for the next instant Lambert's left 
arm had shot out and the fair head struck the wall 
in its descent towards the floor. 

The force of the blow was astonishing for one of 
a comparatively light build and merely superficial 
knowledge of the science of the gloves, but it was 
really not the* nineteenth-century Lambert who 
struck, but some old iron Haselle come for the mo- 
ment to life. For a longer time than would have 
counted as a knock-out in the ring Lord Crysanthe- 
mus lay on the floor recovering his wits, and when 
he rose it was with a very stupefied air. All fight 
had been clean knocked out of him, but his foe had 
not done with him yet. The old warrior just awak- 
ened had not been a merciful man in his generation; 


THE DUKE 


301 


he had frequently first beaten his enemies and then 
hanged them, and he had no intention of staying 
his hand just yet. 

“ Get out ! ” he said, and without giving his 
Lordship time to take the required step even if he 
had wished to, he seized him by the collar with one 
hand, and after a brief struggle got the other home 
on the seat of his immaculate flannel trousers. 
Then, at a stumbling run, he forced the reckless 
aristocrat out of the room, along the passage, down 
a flight of steps, and through the hall; while 
Marjorie, between hysterical tears and laughter, 
watthed the undignified exit. 

“ I think,” said Lambert, when he had got his 
victim to the top of the narrow stone stairs leading 
down from the hall, “ you can go down these your- 
self.” 

With the aid of a well-directed kick his Lordship 
did, and at a remarkable velocity. But Lambert 
was after him almost as fast, and had him firmly 
again. 

“ This way,” he said, and launched him through 
the front door and out on to the drive. 

By this time his Lordship presented a most lam- 
entable spectacle. He had lost his hat, his collar 
and his tie; his coat was split half-way down his 


302 


THE DUKE 


back, and, direst misfortune of all, his braces were 
burst. 

“ Now,” said Lambert, picking up a handful of 
pebbles, “ I’ll let you out as far as that first tree, 
and then you’d better scuttle, for I’m a fair shot 
with a stone.” As indeed he was, and after at- 
tempting to depart at a dignified walk and being 
picked off twice at a short range, his Lordship took 
his host’s advice. 

And so, hatless and collarless, holding up his 
trousers as he ran, and ducking to avoid the peb- 
bles, the gay Lord Crysanthemus cantered back 
from Dunwishart. 

Lambert returned slowly, and with a very medi- 
tative air; in the hall he stopped short to reflect, and 
then at a measured pace came back to the boudoir. 
He was trying to make head or tail of his sensations, 
and failing entirely. 

He found Marjorie where he had left her, only 
she had sunk into a chair, and he could see that she 
was trembling with the shock of what had hap- 
pened. She looked up when he entered, and said 
merely, ” Thank you.” 

Lambert only smiled a little in a quite absent 
way. He was still trying to think clearly where he 
stood and who he was; for the blood of the fighting 


THE DUKE 


303 


ancestor still coursed tumultuously through his 
veins. But he was well aware of one thing, and 
that was the stirring picture Marjorie made with 
her hair a little loose and the colour fast coming 
back. 

Suddenly he seemed to wake up. 

“ Did that man say he came from the Duke of 
Grandon? ” 

“ Yes — but he didn’t, really.” 

“ I know that,” said he, with a confidence that a 
little surprised her. 

“ You thought he had come on your mother’s 
business? ” he asked next. 

“ Yes,” she admitted, without any of her defi- 
ance. 

“ Shall we settle that now? ” he said. 

She gave him a half-frightened, appealing look, 
as much as to say, “ Can’t you let it rest? ” 

“ Miss Gaye, what do you think I came here 
for? ” he asked, not sharply, but rather as though 
he implored her to consider. 

With something of her old spirit, she an- 
swered — 

“ To find out something you thought my father 
had done — and force it out of mother.” 

“ On the Duke’s behalf; you know? ” 


304 


THE DUKE 


“ Why can’t he leave us? ’’ she exclaimed. 
“ What is it he wants? What harm have we done 
him?” 

Lambert considered his words for a moment. 

“ You’re afraid of an injury that might be done 
to one who is dead long ago. The Duke’s father 
received an injury that ruined all his life. His son 
only wants people to know that he was really an 
honourable man.” 

“ But can’t he do it without coming to us? ” 

“ No.” 

There was a pause while Marjorie was trying to 
frame another question. She dared not ask direct- 
ly, “ Why not? ” 

“ Will it injure she hesitated, “ any of us — 

I mean ” 

Lambert did nothing to help her out, and sud- 
denly throwing her pride to the winds, she broke 
out with — 

“ It happened so long ago ! Can’t it be forgot- 
ten?” 

What he had been waiting for had come, but he 
still wanted a little more. 

“Would you ask this of the Duke?” he said in 
a gentler voice. 

“Yes! ” she exclaimed. 


THE DUKE 


305 


“ Of me?” 

She only hesitated for an instant, and then said, 
“ Yes.” 

“ It’s buried, then,” said Lambert, turning ab- 
ruptly away and walking to the window. 

As sharply he turned back and asked — 

“ Mrs. Gaye never showed you that paper I sent 
her? ” 

Marjorie’s colour rose suddenly. 

“ She never got it.” 

He stared at her, and then actually laughed. 

“ Where is it? ” 

“ I locked it up.” 

He thought he had never heard of any one so 
admirable. 

“ Burn it, then,” he said. “ You won’t look at 
it?” 

“ I promise not ! ” she answered fervently, for she 
was only afraid that she might be asked to. 

“ And now,” said Lambert, with a sudden ac- 
cess of diffidence, “ you won’t think so ill of 
me?” 

Her eyes answered him, but there was still some- 
thing on her mind. 

“ But what about the Duke? ” she asked. “ Will 
he agree? ” 


3o6 


THE DUKE 


Lambert thought for a moment. The time was 
up all but a day, and even if he did disclose himself 
up here it would not affect his Grace in London. 

“ I am the Duke,” he said. 


CHAPTER XIV 


'^WENTY-FOUR hours after Lord Crysanthe- 
* mus, Sir Pursuivant arrived at the wayside 
station and drove to the village inn. Being, how- 
ever, of a less impetuous disposition and accus- 
tomed to do everything in a very deliberate, me- 
thodical fashion, he did not, like his Lordship, 
hasten straight to the castle, but after consulting 
his watch and making due calculation, decided first 
to dine and then walk up in the evening. 

“ Might find ’em dinin’,” he reflected, “ or else 
gone out. Evenin’s safest.” 

For it never entered the Baronet’s calculations 
that, except in gay London, people ever moved 
about after dinner. 

But when he reached Dunwishart he learned that 
both the secretary (to still call him so) and Miss 
Gaye were actually out. Doubtless they would 
soon return, and in the meanwhile, Mrs. Gaye, hav- 
ing apparently recovered from her indisposition, 
would be able to receive him. 

307 


3o8 


THE DUKE 


'' Weepy sort o’ woman as far as I remember,” 
he said to himself on learning this. ‘‘ Sha’n’t know 
what to say to her, either; ” and so he told the ser- 
vant he would return later, and then, to pass the 
time, strolled through the pine wood towards the 
sea. 

The Baronet was not of a sentimental turn or 
used to taking solitary country rambles, but this 
evening he loitered meditatively with his hands be- 
hind his back and on his face the expression that 
came nearest to dreamy. The dusk was closing 
among the pine stems; through the black needles 
the evening sky looked very clear and far away, 
and the voice of the sea lured him on. Presently 
the wood became a ragged fringe of weather-beaten 
firs, and the links and sand-hills opened before him. 
He turned along the coast-line and kept walking 
very slowly, while the intoxicating spell of that 
hour in such a place seemed to move even him. 

I cannot say what exactly was happening inside 
the Baronet; but certainly his eyes had lost some- 
thing of their coldness, and as he went he made a 
humming sound that now and then bore some re- 
semblance to a tune. 

Perhaps it was the feeling of lively turf under 
foot and the mysteries of dimness and shadow 


THE DUKE 


309 


lurking about the dusky sand-hills, and the contin- 
uous cadence of the ocean rising higher and more 
stirring as he passed each ragged cleft. Or perhaps 
there was a more subjective cause, and the flash- 
light of romance was being thrown from some little 
window in the Baronet’s heart and shining even 
through his chequered waistcoat. It is certain at 
least that the sound he made occasionally recalled 
a song he had heard sung last night by the voice 
he liked best. 

As he was thus following a vague course that 
seemed to roll interminably into the gloaming, he 
heard another sound than the surge of the sea, and 
stopping to listen, there fell upon his ears accents 
that seemed familiar. He turned and scrambled to 
the top of the ridge of sand-hills, and then instinc- 
tively lowered his head. 

Right below him yawned a huge sand crevasse; 
across it he could see a broad belt of level sand, 
miles long, with the infinite pale sea beyond turning 
up a white fringe where they met. Above the 
quiet horizon the clear sky was darkening, and now 
being set with the earliest of the stars. 

But what caught Sir Pursuivant’s eye and made 
him so quickly duck his head was not all this, but 
something human in the sand chasm at his feet. 


310 


THE DUKE 


Two people were sitting side by side, and he dis- 
cerned a fair head upon another’s shoulder and an 
arm about another’s waist. 

Marjorie ! ” said he to whom the arm belonged, 
and without apparently finishing the sentence, bent 
over the head. 

The Baronet was the most scrupulous of men, 
but he had another’s interests to think of, and al- 
ready he had divined that Frank’s case had been 
tried and a moment’s eavesdropping might tell him 
the verdict. So, with a most guilty feeling he hard- 
ened his conscience and waited. 

The girl seemed to give the man no answer be- 
yond a sigh of content, and in a moment he spoke 
again. 

‘‘ Then we’ll start fresh, and never remember 
there was a year before this year? ” 

The girl seemed to draw closer to him as she 
amended this — 

‘‘ A night before this night,” she said, so softly 
that Sir Pursuivant must have been very near to 
have caught the words. 

And I shall do my best to be a respectable 
Duke, and you ” 

Don’t say it ! ” she cried. ‘‘ Lambert, I’m 
afraid,” 


THE DUKE 


311 


“ Of what? ” 

“ Of being ” she began shyly. 

“ A duchess? ” he asked lightly. 

“ Oh, Lambert,” she said, with a little laugh, “ I 
shall always think of Alice in Wonderland ! ” 

Sir Pursuivant could hear the young Duke laugh 
softly. 

“ No wonder, for we are there,” he said — “ I 
from the backwoods, and you from ” 

“ The school-room,” she whispered. 

“ Come to Wonderland to play at being great. 
We shall make a pretty pair ! ” 

Then, holding her back to see her face, he said 
again, “ Marjorie ! ” And he bent quickly over 
her. 

Sii* Pursuivant could catch no words, but he de- 
tected another sound, and suddenly awakening to 
the fact that he had heard as much as he wanted 
and more than he ought, he cautiously descended 
the ridge and started at a swinging stride back 
towards the castle. 

“Thank God, Frank’s safe!” was his first 
thought. “Never hear any more o’ that old scandal; 
the Duke won’t foul his wife’s nest.” His second 
was quite characteristic of the Baronet. “ Who 
the deuce is she? Harry Gaye was one of the Led- 


312 


THE DUKE 


yett Gayes, cousins of the Scamper-Upjohns; good 
enough stock; quite a lady; liked to have seen him 
marry a little better; best thing that could have 
happened under the circumstances, though/' 

And so, his mind being eased both on the matter 
of his dead patron and Marjorie's pedigree, he be- 
came extraordinarily contented. He was too well 
pleased even to saunter, and at a quick-march step 
(of the longest guardsman's measure), humming 
quite a variety of sounds, he strode along the links 
and through the wood back to Dunwishart. This 
time he ventured to meet Mrs. Gaye, much more 
to the poor little lady's embarrassment than his; for 
he was so absent-minded as to be exceedingly diffi- 
cult company to entertain. She was in a little flut- 
ter of excitement and good spirits; but he scarcely 
noticed her at all, and his remarks were sometimes 
quite alarming in their want of apparent application 
to the circumstances. 

My daughter and the — Mr. " she began in 

a desperate effort to refer to something, and then 
stuck over what to call the gentleman. 

“ I know him," said the Baronet abruptly and 
ambiguously. 

‘‘ They have gone out for a little." 

Saw 'em." 


THE DUKE 


313 


“ You saw them? ” she exclaimed. 

“ Heard ’em,” I mean. 

“ I beg your pardon? ” 

“ Knew they were out, that’s to say; servant told 
me,” he explained, and then relapsed into silence 
again. 

Suddenly and without warning he rose. 

“ Heard ’em come in,” he said. “ ’Sense me.” 

And out he marched and away to the hall. 

There in the gloom, among the old armour, and 
the leviathan furniture, and the feeble light from 
the arrow slits and the shadows between, he saw 
and knew the real Duke of Grandon at last. He 
was standing by the doorway at the further end, 
and till that instant not alone, for as the Baronet 
entered a girl sprang from him and vanished into 
the dusk. Lambert recognised the tall figure and 
the sporting cut of the tail coat, and prepared him- 
self for words, for it must be remembered that hith- 
erto he had only met him in opposition. 

“ Sir Pursuivant Debrette? ” he said. 

” Evenin’, your Grace,” replied the Baronet, 
with perfect composure. 

“ Do you mean me? ” exclaimed Lambert, in 
gfreat astonishment. 

“ ’Spose so,” said the Baronet, with a chuckle. 


314 


THE DUKE 


Lambert laughed. 

Well,” said he, I fancy it’s no good denying 
it now.” 

Not much.” 

How did you learn? ” 

Again Sir Pursuivant chuckled. He was cer- 
tainly in high good-humour that evening. And 
perhaps the most remarkable thing was the com- 
plete revolution in his sentiments towards the late 
secretary. Now he was Frank’s heir — and he was 
also a duke, a fact which Sir Pursuivant would have 
made no affectation of denying to be of the first im- 
portance. 

From a friend o’ yours,” he said. 

Lambert was fairly puzzled. 

Mrs. Louvaine,” said the Baronet. 

‘‘ She guessed? ” 

She’d guess anythin’,” replied Pursuivant. 

Nice dance you’ve led us all,” he added. 

Lambert laughed. 

Now for the wigging,” he said. 

Sir Pursuivant smiled indulgently at this flash of 
ducal humour (the luckless secretary might have 
jested till doomsday before he was so favoured), 
and then he composed his countenance to its sol- 
emnest aspect. A word in season he felt to be no 
more than his duty. 


THE DUKE 315 

Must say I never heard of a man o' your posi- 
tion doin' this sort of thing before," he began. 

‘‘ No more have I," his Grace admitted cheer- 
fully. 

You’ll learn, I s'pose, pretty soon that bein' a 
duke doesn't mean playin' the fool altogether. I 
never mind a man havin' his fling, but there's a 
limit. Never heard of takin' it out this way." 

I have learned a good many things already. Sir 
Pursuivant," said Lambert. 

The Baronet stopped the lecture; he was keen 
enough to tell from the tone of his voice that the 
Duke had learned as much as he could teach him. 
For Sir Pursuivant was very modest at heart, and 
never made the slightest pretension to be a man of 
ideas. Instead, he asked — 

Coin’ to settle down now? " 

Lambert smiled rather guiltily. 

I have taken one step," he replied. 

What's that? " said the Baronet, trying to ap- 
pear unconscious, and actually looking like a som- 
nambulist. 

I've chosen a duchess." 

^'Congratulate you. Introduce me, will you?" 
said the Baronet briefly. 

Lambert stared at him in bewilderment. 


3i6 


THE DUKE 


“ You don’t know who she is?” he exclaimed. 

For once in a way Sir Pursuivant was completely 
at a loss. It was certainly hard to explain how he 
knew. 

“ Gad ! — er — no more I do,” he stammered. 
“ Who is she? ” 

His Grace was forced to the conclusion that his 
monitor was apt to overlook matters of detail. 

“ Miss Gaye,” he said, in some trepidation; for in 
matrimonial affairs a man becomes sensitive. 

The effect of the announcement was surprising. 
Anxious to express sufficient interest and intelli- 
gence this time. Sir Pursuivant uttered an extraor- 
dinarily artificial, “ Aha ! Damned good. Happy 
to be presented.” And then to cover the self-con- 
sciousness he felt at this outburst of feeling, he 
added, “ If you bring her in I’ll light the lamps.” 

Which he instantly proceeded to do, giving Lam- 
bert an uncomfortable impression that he proposed 
to inspect her in wind and limb. 

But by the time she appeared, looking very 
bright without and feeling rather shy within, the 
Baronet had recovered his equilibrium. 

“ Happy to meet you,” he said. “ I’ve come in 
answer to your letter. Some one bin botherin’ 
you? ” 


THE DUKE 


317 


He smiled with a friendliness very rare for him, 
that meant she had caught a fancy difficult to lure. 
She laughed and blushed. 

“ You have come too late,” she said. 

Presently he asked — 

“ By the way, when’s the time up for this jokin’ 
to stop? ” 

By which he meant the secretaryship. 

“ About half an hour ago,” said Lambert. 

After reflecting for a moment how he should best 
break the news, the Baronet, in his driest, briefest 
manner, announced — 

“ ’Tother man says he won’t clear out.” 

At first they utterly refused to believe it. 

“ I’ve known Jack these last five years,” said 
Lambert; “worked with him, drunk with him, 
sung with him. He’d never play me such a trick.” 

Sir Pursuivant shook his head. 

“ It’s all very well for you who are a duke to lay 
back your ears and kick at your position; but for a 
fellow who’s not, a dukedom’s devilish temptin’ — 
specially once he’s got it.” 

“ Surely no one will believe him,” said Mar- 
jorie. 

“ Don’t know about that — but of course you’ve 
got proofs and things.” 


3i8 


THE DUKE 


“ I got a receipt for ’em,” said his Grace, taking 
out his pocket-book. “ Which I’ve left in Gran- 
don House,” he added, looking into it, “ and I sup- 
pose Jack’s found it.” 

Sir Pursuivant looked blankly at this reckless 
peer. 

“ What’ll you do? ” he exclaimed. 

“ It’s all right, never fear,” said Marjorie, confi- 
dently. 

For she had a firm faith by this time in his Grace’s 
power of managing opposition. 

And at last when the lights of the grey castle 
went out, and Sir Pursuivant walked back through 
the clear northern night, he left two happy enough 
hearts behind. 

But the Baronet himself felt considerably less 
cheerful. “ When one thinks o’ how some of those 
pretenders have taken people in,” he reflected, “ by 
Gad, anythin’ may happen.” 


CHAPTER XV 


OOMETHING splendid was evidently happen- 
^ ing at Grandon House. Every window was 
ablaze, a bright awning led up to the door, a crowd 
had gathered to stare, policemen patrolled the 
pavement, a string band were trooping in. Within 
the doors a host of servants walked about, arrang- 
ing banks of flowers, sweeping up the last of the 
litter, and almost making a crowded company of 
themselves. Surely the stately chambers and aris- 
tocratic upholstery must be satisfied now; no more 
lavish beginning to an entertainment could have 
been made by their most legitimate owner. Every 
reception-room was prepared; acres of polished 
floor to dance on; hundreds of soft seats to sit in; 
and everywhere a reckless display of the rarest 
flowers that a botanist could discover and a million- 
aire pay for. 

In his dressing-room, surrounded by every ap- 
pliance that ingenuity had devised for the groom- 
ing of a nobleman, his Grace of Grandon was 
319 


320 


THE DUKE 


putting the last touches to his toilet. The heavy 
work of dressing being over, his valet had been dis- 
missed, and he was left to look at himself at various 
angles in a series of mirrors, and enjoy a few min- 
utes of pleasing meditation. 

The ball had been a bright inspiration to occupy 
an evening that happened to be free. The notice 
had certainly been short, but the rumour had been 
industriously circulated that the entertainment was 
going to be the most splendid of the season, and he 
had the satisfaction of hearing on all sides that 
everybody — the most exclusive everybody — was 
coming. It was to mark the beginning of his ab- 
solute reign: last night the period of borrowed 
plumage had ended; to-day he was defiantly in pos- 
session of the dukedom. Nothing, absolutely noth- 
ing, had come to oppose his designs. The hour 
had passed, a night had passed, a day had passed, 
and there was not a sign that he would ever be mo- 
lested. His temperament was always sanguine, his 
head completely turned by this time, and already he 
had quite made up his mind that he was established 
here for his life if he chose to stay. At one moment, 
as the time for the relinquishment was drawing 
near, he had gone the length of composing an 
effective speech to be hurled at the head of the pre- 


THE DUKE 


321 


tender if he should appear; but now even that 
seemed a superfluous precaution. Besides, even to 
think of an attempt to dispossess him was a bore; 
and the Duke Jack had very readily picked up the 
first lesson of society, that to bore is the unforgiv- 
able sin. 

So he looked complacently at his reflection in the 
mirrors, and certainly it was sufficiently striking. 
One of his ducal foibles had been to set the fashion 
in dress, and he was now prepared to burst upon 
the world with a new species of shirt-front (frilled 
and otherwise embellished according to a device of 
his own), a new cream-coloured material in waist- 
coats with original buttons, and a tie that was a still 
more complete novelty both in size and shape. 

He touched his hair lightly, first with one hand 
and then with the other, twisted his moustache, 
gently fingered his tie, and at last went forth to 
meet the world. 

Out in the street the horses came jingling up, 
and from carriage after carriage the guests poured 
in. Stationed upon the gallery that ran across the 
marble hall, near the top of the marble staircase, his 
Grace received them, himself the most brilliant 
figure in the throng. It was a glorious moment to 
be thus receiving the most notable people in the 


322 


THE DUKE 


land within his own ducal halls; but very soon he 
became aware that he was being regarded with a 
smiling interest, which dashed his pleasure with 
that sense of mystification a man feels when, un- 
known to himself, he bears a placard on his back. 

“ What the deuce are they grinning at? ” he 
thought. “ Can it be me tie? ” 

But it was not at his Grace’s tie. 

“ How do you do, Duke? ” said a stately gentle- 
man of very high position. “ May I congratulate 
you? I hear it is an open secret.” 

“ And what is that? ” asked his Grace, much sur- 
prised. 

“ Your engagement. I thought it was an- 
nounced to-day.” 

His Grace was too dumbfoundered to deny the 
soft impeachment, and the stately gentleman 
smiled. 

“ Charming girl Miss Stock,” he said. “ I con- 
gratulate you,” and passed on. 

So his guests had learned that he was an engaged 
man ! The Duke swiftly tried to face the situation. 
After his fashion of avoiding anything that might 
possibly be irksome he had fought shy of his rela- 
tions of late; and in fact in the more exciting inter- 
ests of the last few days he had clean forgotten 


THE DUKE 


323 


them. Secrecy had been sworn; the difficulty had 
been got over for the moment; and why should he 
bother his head to-day about the evils of to-mor- 
row? 

“ Be George, I’m thankful it’s only Julia they’ve 
heard of,” he said to himself. He had a certain re- 
spect for Lord Roulett, with his excessive hearti- 
ness and light blue eyes, and what that nobleman 
might say if he considered himself affronted; but 
he had a very considerably greater apprehension of 
Lady Georgiana’s displeasure should he deceive her 
Julia. 

“ I’ll have to take her now,” he sighed. 

“ May I congratulate you? ” said a smiling voice 
at his elbow. 

It was the voice of a highly-esteemed dowager 
of his acquaintance. He was prepared now, and 
smiled back graciously. 

“ Am I not a lucky man? ” 

“ And I think Miss Flutter is also to be congrat- 
ulated,” said the dowager. 

The Duke felt the perspiration breaking out upon 
his face. 

“ This is the devil and all ! ” he thought. He 
perceived the full force of the situation now. Their 
tongues had both been freed to-day. 


324 


THE DUKE 


At that moment he glanced over the balustrade, 
and there, ascending the stately staircase, were the 
whole Roulett family — mother beaming, daughter 
blushing, father more genial-looking than ever. 
He cast his eye a little further down, and close at 
their heels he saw the Stocks, and on their coun- 
tenance very similar expressions. They had caught 
the Duke, and evidently neither family were making 
any secret of it. He wavered, broke, and fled. 

In the solitude of his study he poured out a drink, 
tossed it down, and endeavoured to reflect. They 
were waiting for him, puzzling why he did noi 
come, receiving the congratulations of their friends, 
and here he was, the mighty Jook of Grandon, won- 
dering desperately whether it would be better to 
raise an alarm of fire and clear his palace with a 
hose or send out a report that he was mortally dis- 
eased. 

And he had not even a friend left to console him- 
self with. Teddy Lumme was not due back for 
days. Hooky Jones had flitted off again, and Lord 
Crysanthemus had mysteriously vanished. There 
was no one in the whole great house but the crowds 
of smirking guests and the troops of unpaid ser- 
vants. He began to think of the tent by the Wal- 
leroo. 


THE DUKE 


325 


He was sitting, bent thoughtfully, with his back 
to the door, when suddenly he heard it open with- 
out any preliminary knock. He turned angrily, 
and there stood Lambert, in evening clothes, look- 
ing very gravely at him. 

“ How are you? ” said the real Duke quietly, as if 
nothing whatever had happened. 

The impostor could only stare at this appari- 
tion. 

“ Time’s up. Jack.” 

At this Jack started up. 

“Ye upstart!” he shouted. It was the begin- 
ning of the speech he had composed, but at the 
sight of Lambert’s cleared-for-action aspect it 
went no further. He liked a row as well as 
any man, but on this occasion he needed a better 
cause. 

“ You’d better not be a fool,” said Lambert, still 
perfectly smoothly. 

“ What d’ye want? ” 

“ What I lent you. The loan ran out last night. 
Perhaps you’d forgotten? ” 

The impostor met his eye, looked away, and hes- 
itated. 

At that moment there reached his ear a waft of 
music. It was his string band playing a waltz, and 


326 


THE DUKE 


instantly there came into his mind’s eye the vision 
of Lady Georgiana. The contest was decided. 

Waving his hand with a truly ducal gesture, he 
said magnanimously — 

“ Me dear boy, I give it ye freely ! Take it, sir, 
and use it as I’ve tried to do meself ! ” 

“ Where are the papers? ” said Lambert. 

“ Here they are — and as good as the day ye gave 
them me ! ” 

The late Duke handed over his titles with as 
much air of pride in their safe preservation as the 
custodian of a museum, and as though he were 
performing some great and unusual act of virtue 
that finally dismissed the whole matter. Yet they 
were received by their owner without so much as 
thanks. 

“ Did you find it so tempting, then? ” he asked. 

Jack looked at first as though he knew not quite 
what to answer, and then, with entirely disarming 
candour, he exclaimed — 

“ Begad, and I did ! ” 

Lambert put the papers in his pocket and sat 
upon the edge of the table as carelessly as of old. 

“ It’s little wonder after all,” he said, with as 
much friendliness as though there had never been 
a cloud between them. 


THE DUKE 


327 

“ Me dear boy, the only wonder to me is that 
there aren’t more jooks; it’s a fine profession! ” 

“ You found it amusing, then? ” 

“ So amusing, sir, that I’ll take badly to brushing 
me own hair again, I tell ye.” 

“ Is that what you regret most? ” asked Lam- 
bert. 

“ Oh, there’s me carriages, too — and me cellars 
— and one thing and another.” 

“ And your friends? ” 

The favourite of society seemed to come as near 
reflecting as he ever did. 

“ To tell ye the honest truth,” he replied, “ I’m 
not sure that one of them will miss me — faith, nor 
I them ! ” 

And doubtless he knew best. 

“ This, I suppose, was a farewell party? ” asked 
the Duke. 

For an instant his predecessor looked a little 
abashed, but the next moment he answered as light- 
ly as ever — 

“ It’s just a few of me special intimates come for 
a little dance.” 

Lambert smiled. 

“ You are doing things in style,” he observed. 

“ Lambert, me boy, that’s the secret of a being 


328 


THE DUKE 


a jook,” said the abdicated peer confidentially. 
“ Do things in style and ye’ll find no questions 
asked about your morals or your means or any- 
thing. Take me tip; don’t stint yourself, and ye’ll 
be pleasing everybody else — so long as you’re a 
jook.” 

“ And what about the bill? ” asked his Grace, 
looking at him with a searching eye. 

“ Leave that to your secretary,” said Jack, with 
a twinkle in his own. 

Lambert laughed outright. 

“ Jack,” he said, “ I suppose you’ve been going 
at a terrible pace, and I expect I’ll have to retrench 
for years in consequence; but there’s no good going 
into accounts and things. I never understood ’em 
myself.” 

“ There have been temptations. I’ll admit,” Jack 
confessed. 

“ It’s not for me to blame you,” said the Duke, 
“ I put you here myself. And anyhow, whatever 
you’ve done, you haven’t had as much for your 
dukedom as I have as secretary.” 

There was something in his tone that caught the 
other’s attention. 

“Lambert,” he said, “what’s happened? Ye 
seem devilish sobered — and you just going to be a 
jook.” 


THE DUKE 


329 


“ Perhaps that’s it, Jack,” said his Grace. " And 
now what of you? ” 

“ I’ll just pack a few things and be off.” 

“ There’s no hurry; better wait till morning.” 

“ To tell ye the truth,” said Jack, “ the sooner 
I’m out of this the better. Me opportunities as a 
jook have been such that I’ll not let the grass grow 
under me feet now I’ve resigned. We’ll have a 
drink first, though. Here’s luck! Goodbye to 
ye!” 

“ I’ll see you off,” said Lambert. “ Got any 
money left? ” 

The late peer looked a little guilty. 

“ A trifle, I’m free to confess,” he admitted. 

“ Need any more? ” 

“ Lambert,” said his friend enthusiastically, “ all 
I can say of you is that ye’ve the makings of a devil- 
ish good jook, sir ! But I’ll not take any more off 
ye.” 

No valet was called to assist at the last prepara- 
tions, and the remarkable spectacle might have been 
witnessed of two dukes packing one bag. There 
was a side door out of Grandon House leading into 
a little lane, a postern said to have been constructed 
for mysterious ducal purposes; and from this 
modest exit the late ornament of society took his 


330 


THE DUKE 


departure. He got into a cab that had just brought 
one of his own invited guests, Lambert swung his 
bag up to the driver, and they shook hands over 
the doors. 

'' Where are you going? ’’ said Lambert. 

‘‘ The other side of the world again, and as fast 
as I can get.” 

But a short time ago Lambert would have sighed 
to start with him; now he was only thinking of a 
place and a person in this same old hemisphere. 

Good luck to you ! ” he cried. 

Jack waved his hand, the harness bells jingled, 
and in a moment great people waiting in their car- 
riages for their turn to disembark at Grandon 
House saw some one curiously resembling the 
Duke flash past them in a hansom cab. It was the 
last glimpse of him they were ever to get. 


CHAPTER XVI 


A LL this time there was, as may be supposed, 
some anxiety among the guests to know what 
had become of their host. The dancing had begun, 
the band was playing, the buzz of talk filled every 
room; but where was the Duke? Two ladies in 
particular were growing highly impatient, and peo- 
ple noticed these fortunate mothers, with their still 
more fortunate daughters at their heels, moving 
restlessly through the throng in the most evident 
state of expectation. Still there were no signs of 
his Grace. 

At last the sisters met face to face, and those who 
happened to be near them seemed both curious and 
amused in watching what would happen. For a 
very remarkable story was already going the round 
of the brilliant assembly. 

Each beamed with conscious triumph, each felt 
secretly a little surprised to see so complacent an 
expression on her sister’s face, and each paused for 
a second for the congratulations which could 


331 


332 


THE DUKE 


scarcely be withheld. It was Lady Roulett who 
spoke first, with her sweetest simper. 

“ You have heard, dear? ” 

“ Naturally, I have heard,” said her sister in con- 
siderable astonishment. 

“ Nellie is so happy ! ” 

“ It is extremely good of her,” replied Lady 
Georgiana, marvelling at this astounding duplicity. 

“ Do you know,” gushed Lady Roulett, “ they 
have been engaged for three days, and the Duke 
would have Nellie keep it a secret ! ” 

The Lady Georgiana drew herself up with a 
haughtiness that somewhat astonished her sister. 

“ Are you talking of my daughter’s engagement 
to the Duke of Grandon? ” 

“ Yours! ” cried Lady Roulett. 

“ Mine,” said Lady Georgiana, with her most 
Olympian air. 

“ Oh, no, dear,” her sister simpered; “ it is to 
Nellie.” 

Just at this moment while the two confronted one 
another like rival game-fowl, Mr. Stock came 
bustling up to his spouse. 

“ Something extraordinary has happened,” he 
said in a mysterious whisper. “ Roulett tells me 
the Duke is engaged to Nellie Flutter ! ” 


THE DUKE 


333 

“Where is the Duke?” asked Lady Georgiana 
aloud and with an ominous emphasis. 

But still there was never a sign of his Grace, and 
both parties began to realise the necessity for some 
consultation. In a recess off the great drawing- 
room they assembled all their forces, making one 
group, though a group separated into two by a nar- 
row lane of polished floor. What action or what 
view to take neither side quite knew, for they were 
divided in their minds between an indignant sus- 
picion that the others were merely bluffing and a 
horrible fear lest his Grace had really played them 
false. Conversation under the circumstances was 
difficult, but at first they were too absorbed in their 
reflections to notice that something unusual was 
taking place around them. 

The band had suddenly ceased playing in the 
middle of a waltz, the hum of talk became hushed, 
and presently the tall form of Sir Pursuivant De- 
brette might have been observed going from one 
group to another and saying a few words with a 
grave air, which was immediately followed by the 
groups moving towards the doors. 

At last the two families awoke to the fact that the 
great drawing-room was almost empty and that the 
other apartments seemed singularly quiet. 


334 


THE DUKE 


By Jove, I b’lieve the people are goin’ off ! ” ex- 
claimed Lord Roulett. 

I shall inquire,’’ said Mr. Stock, awakening also 
to the situation. 

At that moment the Baronet approached them. 

‘‘ Sorry to say somethin’s happened to the Duke,” 
he said gravely. ‘‘ He’s asked me to get people off 
quietly.” 

“Is he ill?” cried Lady Roulett, assuming a 
most alarmed expression befitting the contin- 
gency. 

“ Not exactly, but somethin’ serious has oc- 
curred.” 

“ He is not unwell? ” repeated Lady Georgiana. 

“ Er — not quite,” said the Baronet. 

“ Then,” said her Ladyship firmly, “ I shall refuse 
to leave this house till I have seen him.” 

“ And I,” cried her sister. 

“ Certainly we refuse,” said the Cabinet Minister, 
with prodigious energy. 

Sir Pursuivant looked a little perplexed. 

“ I’ll tell him what you say,” he answered, and 
went away again. 

They waited for a few minutes in a condition of 
subdued wrath and excitement, the sole occupants 
now of the room, and then there entered the Baro- 


THE DUKE 


335 


net, accompanied only by the gentleman whom they 
had known as his Grace’s secretary. 

Here’s the Duke,” said the Baronet curtly and 
with no visible expression at all, though as a matter 
of fact he had never enjoyed a situation more. 

Lambert bowed very slightly, but no notice was 
taken of the inclination. 

'' May I ask whom you allude to? ” demanded the 
right honourable Mr. Stock, with rising indigna- 
tion. 

‘‘ There’s bin a little misunderstandin’,” said Sir 
Pursuivant. This is his Grace.” 

This? ” they cried; and looked at one another 
blankly. 

And who, then ” began Lady Georgiana, 

the storm-clouds gathering on her face. 

‘‘ ’Tother man was Kavanagh,” said the Baronet. 

‘‘ What ! ” shrieked the deluded sisters, while 
their daughters gave a little scream. 

Then where is he now? ” cried Lady Roulett. 

Gone.” 

Gone ! ” cried Julia faintly. 

Gone ! ” echoed her cousin. 

Where? ” asked the Lady Georgiana in a ter- 
rible voice. 

Abroad,” said the Baronet, as drily as ever. 


336 


THE DUKE 


“We shall never see him again?” asked Julia 
weakly. 

“ ’Tisn’t likely,” said the Baronet. 

By this time the Cabinet Minister had recovered 
sufficient of his wits to exclaim wrathfully — 

“ Do you mean to say there has been an imposi- 
tion, sir? ” 

“ Bin a mistake.” 

“ Who’s this beggar, then? ” asked Lord Roulett, 
who had scarcely taken in the situation yet. 

This time the Duke himself answered. 

“ I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am in fact 
the Duke of Grandon.” And then to the company 
generally, “ Did you want to see me particularly? ” 

A medley of voices seemed to agree upon one 
point, that they did want a word with his Grace. 

“ Well,” he asked quietly, “ what is it? ” 

But for a minute he could get no very specific 
answer. 

“ Scandalous ! ” said Mr. Stock. 

“ The most disgraceful insult ! ” cried his wife. 

“ Damnation ! ” declared Lord Roulett. 

While through it all the Baronet preserved the 
most entire stolidity, and the Duke looked rather 
bored. 

“ May I ask what you complain of? ” asked his 
Grace abruptly. 


THE DUKE 


337 


“ Complain of? ” exclaimed the indignant Minis- 
ter. “ Allow me, my dear. Permit me to speak ! 
One moment, Roulett! Yes, sir, we do complain. 
We have been deceived, insulted, wounded, sir. 
What excuse have you to offer for practising this 
gross imposition? ” 

“ Only this,” said the Duke calmly, “ that I 
had no idea you would make such fools of your- 
selves.” 

“ Fools of ourselves! ” screamed Lady Georgiana. 

“Yes; the moment what you imagined to be the 
Duke appeared, you thought of not a thing but 
catching him. You got what you wanted ” 

“ What we wanted? ” her Ladyship interrupted, 
purple with indignation. 

“ A duke — that was all. What did it matter to 
you if he should be drunk all day and abroad all 
night? If it was really the gentleman himself you 
were anxious about you can still stop him by tele- 
graph. Would you care to? ” 

But her Ladyship neither then nor afterwards 
made any inquiry for the late peer’s address. 

“ Then, sir,” said Mr. Stock, “ do you offer us no 
satisfaction, no reparation? Are we to see our 
daughters ” 

“ Papa ! ” cried Julia. 


338 


THE DUKE 


Our families deceived and disappointed by your 
representative? I consider, sir, that you are re- 
sponsible for the engagements he may have entered 
into/’ 

Certainly,” said Lord Roulett, brightening a 
little at this solution. 

“ For both of ’em? ” asked the Baronet drily, his 
mouth twitching a little at the corners. 

This seemed to cause some embarrassment. The 
two fathers glanced at one another uneasily and 
were silent, and a murmur ran among the ladies, 
while with an air that reduced them to mere im- 
potent hatred, the Duke spoke his final word — 

‘‘ If that is all you have to say to me, I shall take 
the liberty of ordering your carriages. Sir Pursui- 
vant, would you mind telling a servant? For any- 
thing that has been done in my name I am afraid I 
can only offer an apology, and beg you not to take 
any further trouble over the education of the Duke 
of Grandon.” 

“ The carriages are here,” said Sir Pursuivant. 

By this time the futility of further discussion was 
so evident that, some in a magnificent and some in 
a tearful silence, the two families shook the dust of 
Grandon House from their feet. 

Lord Roulett alone lingered. His wits were 


THE DUKE 


339 

never of the clearest, but he thought he perceived 
one last chance of profit. 

'' I say,” he remarked, with a heavy look at his 
Grace, '' this is a damned swindle ! ” 

‘‘ I believe you should be an excellent judge,” 
said the Duke politely. 

‘‘ What are you goin’ to do about it? ” 

‘‘ About what?” 

Landin’ us all like this.” 

What did you make out of that man while he 
was here? ” the Duke asked contemptuously, 

'' What d’ye mean? ” 

How much of my money went into your pock- 
ets? You may think yourself uncommon lucky to 
have done as well by the Duke of Grandon as you 
have. Good-night.” 

And thereupon his Grace turned his back. 

Your carriage is waitin’,” said the Baronet; and 
with a very outspoken expletive his Lordship fol- 
lowed his family. 

The lights were still blazing brightly, the polished 
floors shone, the banks of flowers gave off their per- 
fume, but of all the gay assembly only the young 
Duke and his faithful counsellor were left, standing 
together in the middle of the great empty room. It 
reminded Lambert vividly of his first coming to 


340 


THE DUKE 


Grandon House; the stately furniture was pushed 
back now as it had been then, studying him silently, 
and the portrait of Duke Francis looked as haught- 
ily from the wall. Only now he indeed felt like the 
owner of it all, even of that canvas peer. 

Well,” said Sir Pursuivant, with a grim chuckle, 
you’ve cleared the course astonishin’ quick.” 

Yes,” replied the Duke. ‘‘ Now we are ready 
to start.” 

I s’pose you’re goin’ north again? ” 

‘‘ Post-haste,” smiled his Grace, 
ril see to things,” said the Baronet; and then, 
as Lambert was offering his thanks, he interrupted 
with, Don’t mention it — promised Frank, and that 
sort of thing. Nothin’ else to do nowadays.” 

He cast his grey eyes absently round the room, 
and it almost seemed to Lambert as though they 
had a pensive look. Then suddenly he pulled out 
his watch and asked abruptly — 

Anythin’ more I can do now? ” 

Nothing, thanks — but won’t you wait for a lit- 
tle? There’s plenty of room for us both.” 

His Grace looked round humorously on the vista 
of shining space, and cordially at his friend; but Sir 
Pursuivant was evidently in some unusual hurry, 
and he actually showed a trace of embarrassment as 
he explained — 


THE DUKE 


341 


Promised to give the news — friend o’ yours — 
Laura Louvaine — she’s expectin’ me — good-night 
— congratulations.” 

And with that the Baronet smiled a little con- 
sciously, grasped his hand, and strode out. A 
couple of minutes later he was driving westwards as 
fast as a cab could take him, and it is hard to say 
how much the cheerfulness of his heart was due to 
the thought that Frank’s wishes were accomplished 
at last, and how much to the prospect ahead. 

Behind him, Lambert Haselle was left alone, 
Duke of Grandon in Grandon House, but, faster 
than the Baronet’s cab, his thoughts had set out and 
reached already a goal by the northern sea. 





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A Selected List of Fiction 

Published by « « « « « 

Longmans, Green, & Co., 

91 and 93 Fifth Avenue, % New York^ 


BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 


Each volume illustrated. Crown 8vo, $1.25. 


A Gentleman of France. 
The House of the Wolf. 
Under the Red Robe. 

My Lady Rotha. 


The Man in Black. 

New edition preparing. 
From the Memoirs of a 

Minister of France. 


The Story of Francis Cludde. 


Shrewsbury, with 24 Illustrations, Decorative Cover, $i 50 
The Red Cockade, with 48 Illustrations, cloth, $1.50. 

The Castle Inn, with 6 full-page Illustrations, $1.50. 

Sophia, with 12 full-page Illustrations, $1.50. 

BY H. RIDER HAGGARD. 


Each volume illustrated. Crown 8vo, $1.25. 

The People of the Mist. Cleopatra. 

Heart of ihe World. 

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She. 

The Wizard. 
Beatrice. 

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THE HEART OF DENISE 

AND OTHER TALES. 

By S. LEVETT-YEATS. 

AUTHOR OF “the CHEVALIER d’AURIAC,” “ THE HONOUR OF SAVELLi/’ ETC. 


With Frontispiece. Crown 8 v 0 | cloth, ornamental, $1.2 5. 


The author of the fascinating and brilliant story of ‘The Chevalier d’Auriac' 
knows the main roads and bypaths of the sixteenth century well, and in his latest 
essay in romance he catches the spirit of the times he portrays. With a few sugges- 
tive touches a brilliant, somewhat self-willed beauty of the court is sketched in Denise, 
whose flirtations, innocent enough upon her part, with the young but unscrupulous 
Marquis de Clermont, lead to a peremptory command on the part of the King for her 
marriage, at three hours’ notice, to Blaise de Lorgnac. ... 

The story which gives the title to the book occupies something over a third of the 
volume. The remainder is a collection of eight short stories, most of which are some- 
what melodramatic in character, but all are brilliantly told.” 

— Chicago Tribune. 

“A good romantic story, graphically told.” 

— New York World. 

“A brief, rapid story of those picturesque days when the Flying Squadron fluttered 
its silken sails at the gay French court of which Catherine de Medici was the ruling 
spirit— such is ‘ The Heart of Denise,’ which may be praised as more in the style of 
‘The House of the Wolf’ or ‘A Gentleman of France ’ than anything Mr. Weyman is 
writing nowadays.” — Sentinel, Milwaukee, Wis. 

“A capital love story. . . . It is a pleasant story most pleasantly told. The 
other stories in the book are of equal interest • they are told with admirable skill and 
most excellent art.” — Saturday Evening Gazette, Boston. 

‘‘We find more varieties of talent than we remember in hi’s earlier novels. ‘ The 
Chevalier d’Auriac ’ and ‘The Honour of Savelli,’ ‘ The Heart of Denise ’ and ‘ The 
Captain Moratti’s Last Affair ’ resemble these in the romantic use of the historical 
material of which they are composed ; the other seven display a wider range of in- 
vention m different directions. Taken as a whole, the stories here are considerably 
above the average stories of better-known writers than Mr. Yeats.” 

— Mail and Express. 

“All of them are bright, crisp and taking — generally weird and fanciful, but told 
with an easy and fluent swing which imparts a pleasant flavor to the most inconse- 
quential of their details.” —San Francisco Chronicle. 

“There are many well-told adventures .... with a defined originality and 
manner.” —Baltimore Sun. 

“ Mr. Yeats writes well ; in his Indian tales there is distinct touch of cleverness. 
The story that gives its name to the book is Weyman all over. There is a charming, 
if shrewish, heroine, a misjudged hero, a courtly villain, and the scene is laid in the 
France of the Medicis.” — Journal, Providence, R. I. 

“ The story of Denise is interesting and at times highly dramatic.” 

— St. Louis Republic. 

“ He has romance and pretty turn for dramatic episodes. . . . ‘ The Captain 
Moratti’s Last Affair’ is a delightful tale of Southern villainy, and drama, and the 
longest story in the book, ‘The Heart of Denise, ’ justifies its length by its romantic 
and thrilling character. The Indian tales show that while Mr. Yeats is far below Mr. 
Kipling in the treatment of the material to be found among the natives, he is at any 
rate clever and readable. His vignette of landscape are drawn with special grace.” 

-N. Y. Tribune. 


LONaMANS, GRBEIT^jc 00., 91-93 PIFTH AVENUE, NEW YOEK. 


PARSON KELLY 

A NEW HISTORICAL NOVEL 

By a. E. W. mason 

AUTHOR OF “THE COURTSHIP OF MORRICE BUCKLER" 

AND 

ANDREW LANG 


Frontispiece, Crown 8vo, Cloth, Price, $1.50 


* Parson Kelly ’ is a beguiling variation on the old delightful theme. 

JVir. l^ng has brought to the composition of this novel so much historical lore*, 
so jnuch insight into the Jacobite comedy, so much sympathy for the actors in it*, 
both major and obscure, that the book is alive with true romance. The Prince 
scarcely appears, yet the air of plot and counterplot, of brave deeds and shabby 
intrigue, in which he and his house are enveloped, breathes from every page. 
Historical knowledge and imaginative power are in ‘ Parson Kelly ’ blended into 
a remarkably compact and plausible unit.”— New York Tribune. 

“ We conscientiously refrain from giving the prospective reader any foretaste 
of the exceeding charm of this delightful volume. That charm is continuous and 
in crescendo from the initial to the final page, and it is impossible to conceive 
that the most exacting should have a shadow of disappointment with anything 
about the book either in its personnel, which is very beautiful, or in its literary 
material, which is exceptionally fascinating. The only ground of regret is that 
it comes to an end. It should easily rank with the most popular publications of 
the year.” — Home Journal, New York. 

“ This is an extremely clever novel ; witty, humorous, animated and pictu- 
resque, and so full of dramatic situations that it would make a fine play. 

The characterization is strong, the narrative brisk, and in style and incident the 
novel possesses highly attractive qualities. A very pretty love-story runs 
through the book.”— Chronicle-Telegram, Pittsburg. 

“ The acute and rollicking Par.son, with his coterie of friends, his love of ad- 
venture, his chivalry, is the most entertaining of intriguers. . . . We have a 

nearer acquaintance with the learned and eccentric Lady Mary Wortley Mon- 
tagu. We are hurried through the balls and routs of the early part of the eigh- 
teenth century, and recognize Mr. Lang’s thorough study of the times, and Mr. 
Mason’s dramatic faculty of plot construction.” — Sun, Baltimore, Md. 

“ Nick Wogan is such an Irishman as Lever loved to draw, a soldier of fort- 
une, with a ready tongue and a ready sword. . . . The reader falls in love 

with him at once, and looks for his name at the beginning of each chapter, sure 
that no page can be dull upon which the name stands. But, in truth, ‘ dull ’ is 
not a word to be mentioned in connection with any portion of the book whose wit 
and charming style revives memories of the old masters of fiction. ‘ Parson 
Kelly should have a great success if success is measured by real merit.” 

— New Orleans Times-Democrat. 

This novel holds one s attention closely by reason of the skill with which we 
are constantly kept in the presence of some unsolved mystery. The scene is 
England in the time of George I., and the principal characters are conspirators 
in the Jacobite cause trying to place the Pretender on the throne. ... A 
f^cinating character in the book is Nick Wogan, the friend of Kelly, the con- 
fident of his love-affairs and his avenger on Scrope. The plot thus barely out- 
lined IS exceedingly intricate and ingenious. . . . The style is attractive, 

and displays, particularly, perhaps, in the dialogues, piquancies such as one 
often meets with from the pen of Mr. Lang.” 

— New York Commercial Advertiser. 


LONGMANS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 FIPTH AVE., NEW lOEZ. 


SAVROLA 

A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION IN LAURANIA 

By WINSTON SPENCER CHURCHILL 

AUTHOR OF “THE RIVER WAR: AN ACCOUNT OF THE RECONQUEST OF 
THE SOUDAN,” “ THE STORY OF THE MALAKAND 
FIELD FORCE, 1897,” ETC., ETC. 


Crown 8vo, 350 Pages, $1.25 


“ The tale is brief and it is briskly told The situation celebrated is one 
from which the author has had difficulty in extracting his hero and heroine with- 
out some smirching of their skirts. But the difficulty is neatly overcome. . . , 
Altogether ‘ Savrola ’ is a very promising story.” — New York Tribune. 

" Mr. Churchill is a powerful and vigorous writer, with a clear style and a 
dash in story-telling which shows forth in his work not less than in his corre- 
spondence and his military history. It is a welcome addition to the list of novels 
of adventure.” — New York World. 

“ A dashing sort of a tale, set forth with a good deal of ilan. . . . The 

story is bright and taking, the dialogue unusually witty, without being forced.” 

— Free Press, Detroit. 

“This tale of the revolt of the citizens of an imaginary republic against a 
Dictator is a spirited variant of the Zenda-royalty school. ... It has a 
good plot, a love interest, of course, and all the swiftness of action that revolu- 
tionary days conjure up in the mind.” — New York Mail and Express. 

“ The story is well written in picturesque, forcible style, and will hold the in- 
terest of its readers from the first page to the last.” — Times, New York. 

“ The book is interesting, well planned and filled with action.” 

— Post, Chicago. 

“ It is a carefully written and critical biography that will appeal to all mem- 
bers of the profession.” — Argonaut, San Francisco, Cal. 

“ A story full of action, told with force and vigor.” 

—Post, Washington, D. C. 

“ The story is in the main a stirring account of warlike movements, which 
are well handled by the author . . . another important element of the story 

is the romance which threads the whole and adds charm to all. The style is 
dignified, excellent and attractive, and the interest of the story is fully sustained 
to a thrilling series of climaxes at the close. ” — Progress, Minneapolis. 

“ The story needs no factitious aids. It challenges attention by genuine 
merit. It is a clever tale, briskly told. It has strength and force and is at times 
brilliant. The action of the story takes place in an imaginary state, which is 
under the dominion of an unscrupulous dictator. The dialogue is crisp and the 
description of the revolution vivid and vigorous.” — Brooklyn Times. 

“ The narrative is distinctly unique and cleverly put together. The char- 
acters are finely pictured. . . . The interest throughout is sustained.” 

— Herald, St. Joseph, Mo. 

“ The story ... is one with plenty of ‘ go ’ and action, quite well worth 
the reading. . . . The description of the battle and overthrow of the dictator 

President shows decided strength in its portrayal of a graphic and realistic 
Scene.” — The American, Philadelphia, Pa. 


LONGMANS, 6EEEN, & 00., 91-93 FITTS AVE., NEW YORK. 


SOPHIA % 

By STANLEY J. WEYMAN 


AUTHOR OF “A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE,” “ UNT 

With 12 Illustrations by C. Hamrr >nd. 

ornamental, $1.50t 


THE RED ROBE,” ETC. 

Crown 8vo, cloth, 


“ Mr. Weyman’s new romance illustrates the types and manners of fashion* 
able London society in the year 1742. In everything that means the revival of 
an historical atmosphere it is skilful, and, on the whole, just. The characters 
also are well realized. . . . ‘ Sophia ’ is a decidedly interesting novel. . . . 
The tale moves swiftly, hurrying on from the town to the heath, from hatred to 
love, from imprisonment on bread and water to diamonds . . . and a dozen 
other things. Sophia, the heroine, is a bundle of girlish foolishness and charms. 
‘Sophia,’ the book, is a bundle of more or less extraordinary episodes woven 
into a story in the most beguiling manner.” — New York Tribune, April, 1900. 

“ It is a good, lively, melodramatic story of love and adventure ... it is 
safe to say that nobody who reads the lively episode in the first chapter will 
leave the book unfinished, because there is not a moment’s break in the swift 
and dramatic narrative until the last page. . . . The dramatic sequence is 
nearly faultless.”— Tribune, Chicago. 

“ Sophia, with her mistakes, her adventures, and her final surrender; Sophia 
moving among the eighteenth century world of fashion at Vauxhall; Sophia fly- 
ing through the country roads, pursued by an adventurer, and Sophia captured 
by her husband, transport one so far from this work-a-day life that the reader 
comes back surprised to find that this prosaic world is still here after that too- 
brief excursion into the realm of fancy.” 

—New York Commercial Advertiser. 

“The gem of the book is its description of the long coach-ride made by 
Sophia to Sir Hervey’s home in Sussex, the attempt made by highwaymen to 
rob her, and her adventures at the paved ford and in the house made silent by 
smallpox, where she took refuge. This section of the story is almost as breath- 
less as Smollett. ... In the general firmness of touch, and sureness of 
historic portrayal, the book deserves high praise.” — BUFFALO Express. 

“ ‘ Sophia ’ contains, in its earlier part, a series of incidents that is, we believe, 
the most ingenious yet planned by its author. . . . The adventure develops 
and grows, the tension increases with each page, to such an extent that the 
hackneyed adjective, ‘ breathless,’ finds an appropriate place.” 

—New York Mail and Express. 

“ ‘ Sophia,’ his latest, is also one of his best. A delightful spirit of adventure 
hangs about the story; something interesting happens in every chapter. The 
admirable ease of style, the smooth and natural dialogue, the perfect adjust- 
ment of events and sequences conceal all the usual obtiusive mechanism, and 
hold the curiosity of the reader throughout the development of an excellent plot 
and genuine people.” — Public Ledger, Philadelphia, Pa. 

“Those who read Mr. Stanley J. Weyman’s ‘Castle Inn ’ with delight, will 
find in his ‘ Sophia ’ an equally brilliant performance, in which they are intro- 
duced to another part of the Georgian era. . . . Mr. Weyman knows the 
eighteenth century from top to bottom, and could any time be more suitable 
for the writer of romance ? . . . There is only one way to define the subtle 
charm and distinction of this book, and that is to say that it deserves a place on 
the book-shelf beside those dainty volumes in which Mr. Austin Dobson has em- 
balmed the very spirit of the period of the hoop and the patch, the coffee-house, 
and the sedan chair. And could Mr. Stanley Weyman ask for better company 
for his books than that ? ’’—Evening Sun, New York. 

“ Contains what is probably the most ingenious and exciting situation even 
he has ever invented.’^— Book Buyer, New York. 


LONGMANS, GBEEN, & 00., 91-93 PIFTH AVE., NEW TOEZ 




4 


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